I’ve always fallen in love in Digbeth,
A place where shards of glass scars the ground.
Dead pan relationships are shaken if they are found,
And the girl past midnight mops up the left over polkadot sound.
A dance hall full of filtered fancies practicing how to breathe,
With a sweet scent to carry and an eye to please,
The streets drenched dystopia knowing it does not come for free.
I’m always falling in love with Digbeth.

© Thelma Von Salem @ https://thelmavonsalem.com
Image – Pinterest

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