Stranger trails.
Paths once forged together
met by overgrowth,
died in time
unsurprised.
I used to think I'd die by your side.
Fools always rush to gold,
but I didn't mind
playing the fool in your eyes.
I'd watch the sun rise
over dying tides
every night, a thousand times
to learn what I know now.
Praying to red rocks,
turning them gold.
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