Poetry

Nictophile

“When you were near, my skin seemed to sing
at the thought of you.”

It was the pauses. The gaps between your words. The silence between your sentences. And the darkness behind your eyes. But that darkened silence was never anything to fear. Instead, it only served to heighten my awareness of your proximity to me. How my skin seemed to sing at the mere thought of those eyes roaming freely. How my fingertips and even my parched lips seemed to tingle when I thought of how you would feel, moving against me. I knew I needed a taste of you. I knew what I felt went beyond simple desire. It was much deeper. That dark welcomed me with open arms, and I knew I’d never want anything else.

Β© Sarah Doughty

Maybe that’s why
I love the night
so much.

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9 thoughts on “Nictophile”

  1. Oh Sarah… I don’t comment often, in fear that you’d someday end up thinking I am biased, but you never cease to amaze me. This is absolutely wonderful, and I would be jealous of your talent with words, if I didn’t love everything you write so very much! πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s always fine whether you choose to comment or not. That said, I am honored that you think so about my words. I always strive to reach the most potent emotional response as I can with each piece. It doesn’t always work, but I certainly don’t mind trying again to do better. And really, there’s never any reason to think your words aren’t equally as amazing. Our writing styles are quite different, but I don’t see it as any detriment one way or another. I certainly have my days where I have similar thoughts with yours. 😊

      Like

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