stream of conciousness

Later years give hallow thoughts. She'll know the moment in yestersecond, savoring the feeling of unbridled emotions. They are there, turmoiling fast into hastefully wasted time. "Too," he may say he would want that too. "I heard a sound it came from you." Gasping

The shout breaks air, more air to bear, a movement from the skin. Again so thin a feeling within when touching her soft white skin.

Don't be too subtle lest your meaning fall ill, the torn vocabulary short of reprise - to save the begotten man a moment of monotony.

Pick the flower Maiden Trill, the descant tone to play the part. She fills her heart the better against the leaves at feet who rot.