158.

For every moment
of feeling, this mosaic
envelops me more.

157.

Your image is the
flower pressed in homage of
hope between my bones.

156.

Onward adulthood
marches on, with the inner
child too often

left behind. Who can
you even really be when
you cut out your heart?

155.

The ephemeral
passion of belief, should be
more kindness, than rote.

154.

Le soleil passe par
un tamis de passion et
d'amour, tenu tendre.

153.

Sleep crawls over and
into me persistently
as fall's end quickens.

152.

The cold embrace of
welcome rain, still needs some hint
of variance too.