Holding onto the words
spoken and dreaming
in the quiet night
of the world, falling
into an abyss of
forgotten memories.
Thank you for reading!
-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
Holding onto the words
spoken and dreaming
in the quiet night
of the world, falling
into an abyss of
forgotten memories.
Thank you for reading!
-Alina