
Electric beats
synthetic sounds pulsate
the rhythms of the heart
glitching and spinning in
revolving neon lights.
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-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

I saw her at the
Crossroads, black dog at her heel
A torch in her hand
Another drink, a day gone
Torch burning in the darkness

Electric beats
synthetic sounds pulsate
the rhythms of the heart
glitching and spinning in
revolving neon lights.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina