Slinking down alleyways,
thrilled by the rippling dark.
Black
upon white, cold
stone.
Daisies tilt their heads:
smile.
Axes bite into crimson bone,
dwelling in the corners
of the corners.
Pure.
Devilish.
A curious mix.
Grace breathes life
into fire.
Life breathes fire
into grace.
4 replies on “Alleyways”
Lovely poem, Brooke
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Thanks Jason. ☺️
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as always… You’re welcome
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☺️☀️
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