The bright lights of Vegas are the
Loneliest places on earth.
Crowded streets,
Sweat,
People brushing and shoving
Their washed-up nylon dreams into
The comfort of another.
A coin in a slot.
Risking and
Wishing for luck.
For change.
To become someone new in
The color of neon.
Give me instead the
Quiet smell of coffee
And your cologne on
That morning before the rain.
A warm place to call my own.
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