There are fairy lights on my lonely wall here, fairy lights next to green plastic curtains. The window glass is framed in a dark wood and it feels like warmth and a spectacle. Beyond the glass are trees with the changing leaves and the sleeping crows. The birds keep me company sometimes, when the sound of breaking glass bottles becomes too much to bear. They spread their wings around me and bury me deep within their fluff, right next to their ribcage where my heartbeat becomes muted.
And then, of course, there is the white moon. 

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