Writing on Sidechat | The heart yearns, like a stray cat at midnight, contently wandering through alleys it pretends to own, but secretly aching for a window left open, a light left on, some quiet proof it belongs somewhere.

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The heart yearns, like a stray cat at midnight, contently wandering through alleys it pretends to own, but secretly aching for a window left open, a light left on, some quiet proof it belongs somewhere.

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Anonymous 36w

Like this. Keep writing.

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