1250.

A distant courtship
that always bears excuses
'stead culminations.

1249.

Even if you call
them love, they are still wounding.
Spilling a heart's blood.

1248.

Still, a pedestal
is no place to bear arrows.
Weapons, not measures.

1247.

A face pressed down in-
to those ribs for completion.
But masks never count.

1246.

Especially when
someone else always ends up
with their love returned.

1245.

Such a long time to
speak in code through a thrum
of heartbeats, fractured.

1244.

The only import
given the first time it was
spoken. Never since.