Sometimes flowers bloom in broken places.
In humble cracks along the sidewalk,
through little splotches of dirt,
just barely visible.
In patches of grass isolated from others,
framed by the business around them,
the machine of their world.
In scars along your face,
your cheek bearing cuts,
your arms bearing bruises,
your heart bearing agony.
Through gentle touches of water,
be it a calm shower,
a bustling storm,
or the sweetest, softest kiss,
Life will grow from what remains.
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Poems & Short Stories
NouvellesA collections of poems, short stories, and whatever else may fall under those grounds.
