Revive

Writing

The relics sat in the petals scattered amongst wildflowers. Elder geese flock from the Indian lakes tribbing conquest in their sun burnt trails. When did these seasons go? Could they decide the sacrifices we relinquish when this life splattered bitter hawthorns?

You could stay happy there in the shrubbery where I broke your heart as transgression. Can we get some more yellow in here so the moonlight can reflect our broken glasses that fill the bartender’s requests past 2 AM?The medicine never helped to prove all of my hidden confessions.

Sustaining yourself in galaxies

where the radiance in your eye

was fair enough for conquest

afar The Conde Petie Mountain Path

The lingering smell of hazelnut

faltered my longing for a better life.

Similar to the broken pottery in your

apartment, a delicacy out of spite.

Cross-cutting our way past this final tempest a fantasy like no other, where the music plays a decadence in our touch.  Promising the writing into the night through star-crossed survival. Poetry in motion streams amongst the different colors that float in the recognition of our interests.

I enjoyed the little things about you

and I hated them too.

Bring me to life in hope that we are

everlasting when we die.

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