The back-alley angel,

who listens to prayers

echoed off cracked garbage cans

and chipped bricks,

I watch you drift lazily,

like the snow in my eyes,

I pull my coat closer,

cutting off the plague of cold and quiet

you're awake when you want to breathe,

but you're growing sick of sunlight.

i can see it in the way you spit,

bloodied and battered.

someone lied to you long ago.

someone made the mistake

of setting you free.