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Jan 2015
You sit only inches from me.

Every right turn's tragic momentum
Theatrically lunges you closer to me.
The smallest points of your elbow
Lightly brisk the top of my memory.

The tickle sends a shivering pulse
Between the blades of my back.
The knot of my neck is hardly strong,
But weakness has fled from my head.

The feelings emerged are nothing new,
But my feelings submerge about you.
Wondering how well you know me,
But how much more you know my friend.

The compassion of trust to a friend,
Verse the pressure of lust to a trend.

The car stops, my place is on the left.
Andrew L Starosta
Written by
Andrew L Starosta  Chicago
(Chicago)   
667
   C Davis, Sabbathius, Jamie King and SPT
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