Shouldn't we speak a little more softly afloat the breeze, in case words like memories conspire to break this, reclaim our hearts. Locks of chaos fall, dance upon her neck, arc of chin and that quick inhalation of breath; a labyrinth of limbs. Shouldn't we pay a little more attention cling a little tighter to this skimming stone's mast, for thoughts perchance to kiss, so often surpassed... read more