Among carefully wished romances slides inversive blight, but fewly. I would say that the majority (always wrong?) dimensions its way into foreflight. I would observe, also, the wingspan of an other figured as this moth(er). Solo, polished, flooded with a brilliance of its own that dries in flight. Only chemistry invalidates the fleet coat. Only the seen menace of domingo passes. Each day on waking, there is light brushed lean. Each memory, deliciously inaccurate with guesswork in the learned direction of the floodlit plain. Already I am offshore from the singular impression made in short one feather at a time. The rings of care draw symmetry before deciding on asymmetry. One's shoulder easily amount to grief atop free agent grieving. Catapult is what commencement exercises pry out of the fidgeting berobed fixtures plunked atop gray folding chairs. The various crosshairs impose a gander at each individual. Morning has smoothed out the early afternoon each time. As parenting defaults to product, lingering in sleight of handsome.
Put-on airs, appearance of serenity eventually from a certain place away
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