She was like a crinkled poppy; with the desire to drink dry dust.

“Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you.”

“I ask now, standing with my scissors among my flowers, Where can the shadow ent…”

“But when the self speaks to the self, who is speaking?—the entombed soul, the s…”

“After all, she may have thought, do words say everything? Can words say anythin…”