Free Hand #39

They slip under

a sky that is painted maroon.

From washed out blood

faded and cold.

The ocean brings them

back in from where they

were going to go.

Moon rises and the sky

is black.

Swallows them whole.


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!

I hope you will return in the future!

-Alina