This is beautiful, a pile of pretty
making designs I wouldn't have
seen if I had kept quiet, stayed clear and clean.
Each day a blush, a bashful glance.
Not knowing can be powerful,
a pinch each minute, a backwards
sway every hour. Into the dusk,
the haze of uncertainty, we travel.
The eye cannot say to the hand,
"Since you do not hold me,
I have no need of you."
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Monday, April 28, 2008
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