1411.

A frustration of
the senses. Stymied at its
fledgling, slight efforts.

1410.

I hate that I will
never be your first any-
thing worth memory.

1409.

This heart was built on
lies and only understands
procrastination.

1408.

I search through pictures
of my family, long dead,
trying to find me.

1407.

I always carry
you around like so much worth-
less baggage. Heavy.

1406.

Each press of bodies
an affirmation of flesh
and souls, united.

1405.

That memory stays
locked in head, fresh despite its
distance. Talisman.

1404.

She searches out words
and repeats them under breath.
Psalms and comfort, one.