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Jan 2013
Its late tonight,
and you just got here,
or maybe I just got there,
it doesn’t matter.
This is so different,
but its slowly becoming the same,
in our awkward relationship,
its like our own secret little game.
You take your place,
as I crawl awkwardly into bed,
but you, you hold no trace of awkwardness,
only pure comfort lines your ever-present grace.
I envy you, and your cool calm, intellect.
Where I am nothing but nerves and fear,
you fit in like you belong here.

I am careful, lying next to you,
keeping inches between our exposed flesh.
I want so badly to embrace you,
but I know better, and give you respect.
Timidly, I wait for an invitation,
or shyly ask to scratch your back,
anything to get my hands on you,
to touch that warm flesh…
you know you belong to me,
and that’s a fact.
After you’ve had your fill,
you open your arms,
or pull me to you,
and my heart, my body, my emotions spill
into your arms.
You hold so much more,
than just my body,
I often wonder just how much…
can your arms feel it?
As I lie there, in your arms,
I trace slow, lazy circles…
on your side, your ribs, your stomach.
The movie plays,
and we lie there,
tension builds…
finally the credits roll.

And I find my sweet release,
as soon as our lips meet.
There’s no room for the makeup,
no room for the mask.

The world is forgotten,
all is left behind,
there’s nothing here,
but you and I.
I am in heaven,
and all is right.
I am yours,
and you are mine.

The clock ticks time away,
not even we have the power to stay,
and we drift asleep,
tangled together in bed sheets.
The sun rises, the clouds part,
sunshine spills across the room,
bathing you in gold,
and spilling straight into my heart.
You open your eyes,
and I know it’s gone.
I touch your arm, your face,
I try to pull you back into the night,
to our last embrace,
but its no use, you hide from the light.
Friends again, or something more,
that’s something of which I am never sure.
a quick peck on the lips,
a mere echo of the night before,
and your gone.

Off, speeding away,
into the streets,
into a new day…

As I sit and wonder,
whether I am a fool.
Written by
Megan R Hoogstad
  779
   John F McCullagh
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