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poetry

That Night

I think we’ve all had nights like this, whether alone or with others. They’re strange times, especially when it gives you a different perspective […]

There’s a strange silence that settles over the house

A kind of uncomfortable quiet that sets in

It happens in the later hours

When patience is stretched thin

It starts with the ridiculing and little jokes

That aren’t as funny as they seem

It ends with the strange little silence

And a bitterness sweetened with the word “mean”

It’s moments like these I feel a little colder

And remember who I am

Yet if I told anyone in this strange hour

I know that it would be met with dismissal and ban

I can still feel its tendrils curl

Around my stony, black heart

And I know that if I tried to smile

Old pain might just start

So, for now, I escape to sleep

And writing down each thought

And hope that tomorrow I’ll forget about this night

The night when everything fine was not

***

I think we’ve all had nights like this, whether alone or with others. They’re strange times, especially when it gives you a different perspective with how the world operates. I do not enjoy these times, but I do so their value. I hope I portrayed that indescribable emotion well enough.

By griffalice

A poet, an artist, and an explorer.

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