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Of longing and desire
You caress me with your every word
and I, I burn for you
It's in the poise of your hands,
and a fire that isn't seen
It's the way my conscious, stirring misguided
divides, and
clings to you naked, briefly (then falls)
into forms naive,
safely drawn from delusion and dream
with such ease
(for your touch
no heavier than a whisper)
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