Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

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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