she hated the night. everything always seemed scarier and more sinister once it got dark. the absence of the sun led to an absence of optimism, she felt. the night brought with it a cloak of despair and hopelessness. once the bright lights disappeared and were replaced by the stars and moon, a certain dullness enveloped the city and folded itself into the crevices of her heart. the stars and moon, she thought, were poor substitutes for the happiness of the sun. the darkness provided hiding places for thieves and murderers and contained secrets that could cause bloodshed. when night came, she felt drained of her true feelings, and instead, found herself drowning in a puddle of misery and more often than not, fear.
she was terrified of the night for she had never witnessed its beauty.
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he loved the night. everything always seemed prettier and more hopeful once the stars came out. the absence of the blinding sunlight led to an absence of sorrow, he felt. the night brought with it a sense of relief. with the bright city lights illuminating the earth and the stars glowing across the sky, he felt a certain comfort. he felt safe when the moon came out. when its soft glow reflected off his window, he felt reassured of his wellbeing. the darkness provided solace to lost souls and confused wanderers. when night came, he felt calmer and filled with strange passion, the kind that made him want to paint the moon and write poems about it.
he was infatuated with the night for he had never witnessed its horrors.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Teacups
Poetrypoetry and prose from a treacherous soul [highly pretentious in the hopes of being highly aesthetic] [lowercase intended] Cover by @LyssiDee
