Lights in the city never go out.
During the night, everything in my empty apartment is awash with a stale fluorescent haze. I don't like turning the lights on. I loathe that disgustingly warm glow. It always pierces through the darkness and ruins the night's natural composure.
Sometimes it feels good to drown in the darkness and let it hide those thoughts you would never utter aloud otherwise. The night must collect a lot of secrets and tears and silent sufferings. Perhaps that's why it's so good at comforting you. It's had many lovers after all.
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