A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child's kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. "Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us." We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find...... a perfect paper airplane.

We kissed for about
the thousandth time,
No promises,
no demands,
Just solid rebuilding
of shattered trust.

She's no longer afraid to die. What she's afraid of is living, accepting the status quo.

Backward and forward each throwing his shuttle, / Death ending all with a knife.

O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!

Mel said, 'Just make it your own.' And she said, 'I'll kiss each several paper for amends. Aye, mira, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Mel and I just looked at each other - 'There's the show.'