Nightly Imagery

The light glows orange 
and like a moth to the flame 
I take the photo, 
hit send, 
and wait. 
Knowing you'll open it, 
somewhere you probably aren't supposed to 
hoping you know how to hide your screen. 
I wait for the response, 
nervous, 
shy, 
excited, 
surprised at my lack of shame. 
Anticipating what will follow, 
more, 
less,
banter, 
rejection, 
is part of the path, 
that leads to the burn of the night.