228.

Then blew a strong wind
of denial over the
corpse of their union.

227.

But he still broke them.
Scattered veins in the desert
of his empty eyes.

226.

Said he would cherish
each careful design like a
dream of forever.

225.

Boy once said that he
was infatuated with
the sharpie drawn hearts

peeking out from
the ripped knees of girl's faded
and well worn through jeans.

224.

Stuck in the morass
of emotion's quagmire, left
to a slow drowning.

223.

I view the compass
of your heart's lost struggle from
a hollow distance.

222.

Under the cover
of your mouth, I see myself
coated in passion.

221.

The marks of her chains
hold you, an indelible
embrace's hostage.

220.

Only voodoo can
do justice to the union
of all held within.

219.

Crawling along the
meaning of a slow heartbeat,
stuttering under

the weight of its own
anchor. Where shovels have dug
so deep, just psalms work.

218.

Each flutter of tongue,
making me beg for either
salvation or scars.

217.

I tend to run from
the seduction of how you
speak soft in razors.

216.

Those moments flew like
they had wings when the seconds
counted them as ticked.

215.

As the shimmering
excuse for night showed that your
eyes were etched stones from

a cemetery,
tomorrow's voodoo couldn't
retrieve time marked from.