ericI will gently recede from what is not the world from what has presented to be true and if you were to look back from a fiction of joy suspended like a resounding chord falling forever from the sky the powdered imprint of a moth
sca soft mist rising towards the sky in the early morning light; the delicate dusting of white after a late winter snow fall; the sluggish ebb and flow of an ocean reflecting the black tar of night.
jbclose yr eyes baby yr invisible
jbsaying I love you is so low stakes, always say it when you mean it
jbyr empty shell belongs to someone else now
jba threat nestled softly between a promise and a wish