Crystal moon over the La Sal Mountains and I’m tired, tired from staying up all night watching your face turn and twist in the sheets. You’re just a voice now. Far away, somewhere in the snow, you echo out of the rocks and bedroom walls and somehow I hear you and my chest opens up to inhale you. The elk stand out against the snow and I’m tired of missing so much.
Grandiloquent. For ever panting and for ever young.
Email:
archrisman@gmail.com
J’aime votre art. C’est votre existence et la fin du mien.
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