Every once in a while, you come across that line that holds your imagination longer than the rest.

“The perfect, pretty hopeful sun
Fighting through the clouds”

Just did it for me.

Thirteenth Hour

IMG_2872

 

The Seine

 

The river coursed its magic—like cheap red wine

In my veins

 

The golden bridge

The silver sky—

All the while

Threatened rain

 

And it all looked like a mirror

My image on display

The gritty, ashy holes in me

The perfect, pretty hopeful sun

Fighting through the clouds

View original post

Advertisements