A break.

Off for a midsummer break. Be back the first of October.

2104.

Her voice breaks a heart
through token protestations
of what love won't be.

2103.

My heart is littered
with all the ongoing works
of hope's small trials.

2102.

Afterwards, I would
swear that innocence head
worn him like mirrors.

2101.

I yearn to be freed
from these contrived passions
eluding solace.

2100.

Smoke wafts up like wraiths
in the sky, lighting up their
passion in fire.

2099.

The beauty of the
sky holds, as stars mirror this
emotion's disease.

2098.

Silhouettes cross the
stage in their inanimate
dance to memory.

2097.

The broken heart of
a sinking ship's reckless hope
that rescue might come.

2096.

Outside, the streetlights
shine downward like passing thought's
interrogation.

2095.

The smell of rain and
brine, carried off the water
soothes me deep inside.

2094.

The delicacy
of bent stem's petals are cowed
under morning dew.

2093.

Her voice, arching sound
past the splendor of my heart
echoes in wonder.

2092.

Your eyes tell stories
from within gentle whispers,
fractured in the night.

2091.

Pinked flesh, hungry and
flush under the push pull of
a needle strewn back.

2090.

Upside down, the day
plays its reversed emotions
for the dyslexic.

2089.

Word voyeur, lost to
soft sighs and shuddering breaths
intoxication.

2088.

If only clouds could
be beds, coming down to pick
up dreamers each night.

2087.

When they told you that
people were fragile, you saw
a chance to break them.

2086.

Possession is an
idea we keep confusing
for such enslavement.