Always the soft shadow that brings it all back; noticing how after long-ago, the residual humidity from the hottest shower frail skin can stand collects silently in the same heart-shape drown with fingers, during a moment of laughter and coy admittance. Like nothing, it's all been said now. Just like nothing, what I'm doing tonight... what I seem to be doing most of the time.


Let's watch it... Every second on recording, you'll knock it. Like you normally disklike anything outside the normal comfort zone, drawn onto you; and you know the boundaries so well. Even angels from any form of heaven, standing, observe the hell you're givin'.  It is a sort let down, disappointment, or a given... On recording, every second. Each hesitation or halting of revenge, or redemption. Even longing, evermore can you read into me, I would spell each cursive sentence with my mouth- both easy to see, easy to read.