Tiny Fawns

Daily poetry from Brianna Dawn.

on these cliffs

the sky holds its breath i feel like the cliffs are about to turn over in their sleep, teeth buried into the hips of the ocean and i will wake up in a dream rolling upon the slipping sand neck-deep in the waves, and i will wake up again between a rock and another hard place my head a cave © Tiny Fawns, 2018

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tongue thorns

you spit those arrows like fire, then recline on haughty heels as if you weave blood from the coils of a rose briar but i only witness a wisp of smoke with a watery punch – it hardly rises to reach the mark dead petals hold more weight than the thorns blooming from your mouth © Tiny Fawns, 2018

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