Moon Crisp

Heart in the dark, sitting in the corner waiting for someone to come to the window. Deep in the night there are noises that come from the floorboards and tell it to calm down and shudder.

The windows are broken and black like our feet on the pavement when we run without shoes on to get away from all the things the night brings. In the crisp air we inhale and the cold invigorates us, we run with the wolves and dance with the devil. At midnight we come alive and howl at the moon and say that we are all just too smart for the real world.

We break bottles on the sidewalk and run from the cops and we dance round in circles as old women yell out their windows for us to keep it down. We are brimming with hope and youth and stupidity.

We are hoping that one night will change everything, and magic will happen at the end of our fingertips. We dust off our shoulders and hold our heads low, we stare at the floor because our eyes don’t know where to go.

We walk down the street with a screen at our helm, we shield our eyes because we are all afraid someone will know us too well.

We breathe in the night air and hope to feel alive, to feel young and hopeful and like things are anew.

We breathe in the crisp night air and forget there are more important things to do.

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Crisp

A Short Conversation is a collection of stories, thoughts, and general musing. I like to write like I'm slamming a door; loudly, and with purpose.

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