3/30/08
It was swept away in a moment's neglect. Past words, link to a time I can no longer touch and breath and feel. All funneled out of the drain of reality to some soft shore to live out their days away from me.

4/6/08
He's not right. Imperfectly flawed as if to taunt my romantic ideal.

4/10/08
Waiting for me to begin that rush downhill. Hands free, wind stroking everything of me, blowing past regret, soft misgivings float off; the sky's prisoner.
He's chasing, distance increases, he can't keep up and his soft promises are the only thing the wind carries to me.