347.

The weight of that stare
sears me like a brand. Knowing,
full of ownership.

346.

The guile needed to
woo me are those already
possessed and ignored.

345.

The moon calls me out
to dance in surrender of
her slow seduction.

344.

Oh, to be floating
right now, off in the turquoise
arms of a lost sea.

343.

Can it be any
wonder that people are cruel
with such loneliness?

342.

The press of bodies
when busy are often the
only touch some get.

341.

The soft breeze of air
when someone passes close by,
so gently lingers.