i found blushed flowers inside crevices.
petals of poignant hues mimicking dusk,
stained by footsteps on the alley we roamed.
cigarette butts, exuding their last gasps,
float in puddles from graveled clouds that weep.
quarreling with tides, they refuse to drown.
they won’t sink this may, like i did last spring,
in a pool of lilac forget-me-nots.