I read these words as one who wakes in the middle of the night with a palpitating heart, sheets wet and three hours from dawn. Love the texture, the weave of a heart bearing itself to the darkness within and all that is heard is the flap of cloth whipping itself in the cold night air.
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I read these words as one who wakes in the middle of the night with a palpitating heart, sheets wet and three hours from dawn. Love the texture, the weave of a heart bearing itself to the darkness within and all that is heard is the flap of cloth whipping itself in the cold night air.
Yeah, that pretty much wraps it up.
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