Is it strange that I like the clash of noses? It is an endearing clumsiness. The clash of teeth is not endearing.
There’s probably a word, in other languages, for the hollow above your collarbone. There’s probably a word in English for it.
In a local dry-cleaners there are three identical pictures on the wall. Each framed, three cheap stock prints. A flower. What do you think about that?
I keep wishing I could speak to you alone. Not to say anything, or demand anything. Just to stand at the edge of that possibility. Then pause and then discuss the weather.
Is it strange that I like the clash of sentences?
Is this a love letter? I can’t remember.