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Mar 2018
how each face you turn
is another cheek for me
to meekly reach toward

an attraction to
rate of change

the first one was coy
it held me in its gaze
and built a house of straw
for me to crawl in

the second, more familiar
a me in you for me to see
and dive into head first
familiarity scratching at the scalp

the third, half smile and half frown
the kind of face that martyrs itself
on a crown of need, a list of to dos
that cause a summersault inside me

the fourth, set in glass
fixed, permanent, fragile
one misstep and it's bad luck
seven years of wandering

away from you
Written by
Michael  32/M/New York City
(32/M/New York City)   
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