The lines of the grey morning are scored into my dreams, the light the hand that breaks it all so carefully. I am not ready to give into the sun just yet, I close my eyes and hear water lapping beneath the glass towers of day rising in my mind. Water that I long to sink beneath and hear nothing but my own heartbeat, not even the breath that with each passing pulls me from my reverie. Water, singing with the darkness of places untold, where the echoes of distant voices pulse through, leaving me vibrating to the core. And so I think, while the dreams chime within, and the night still sits on my skin, I will cradle the last of its call within water....letting the drops of night's rain cascade....



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