Wasteland
I would sacrifice to be a wasteland in order for your garden to grow.
And then you wouldn’t have to bury your tracks in the snow.
Let this revelation begin with a kiss
-and we will levitate with held hands.
Like a slow melting sunset cradling a crescent moon.
-Like a ghost appearing in a Rave.
-Bryce Stoskopf
Copyright © Bryce Stoskopf | Year Posted 2015
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