...it's still my kind of weather. where chimneys spray fumes of gingerbread and amethyst smoke down the block. It snowed-in the cluster...

it consumes my entire being, a galaxy unto itself, with scorching stars and pirouetting planets... my love for you, spills out, in an...

you could say paragraphs, read and recite speeches, but still cannot say three little words. curse your QR-coded grin and carefully...