417.

Today is caught like
webs in the crosshairs of a
past long forgotten.

416.

I want to press hands
deep into your flesh with soft
heat's exploration.

415.

I sing gentle hymns
to an empty heart, cradled
in tremulous hope.

414.

Lost, adrift in the
fluctuating currents of
this fleeting passion.

413.

Color us in those
copious deceptions so
emotions can drown.

412.

Stroke me into the
sun's background so light may not
dig up gaunt hollows.

411.

Gentle orchids float
as victims to rapacious
wind's brutal giving.