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not unlike the sensuous twilight,
enclasped in your hair,
there appears some truth
in the nuance of your words.

contrary to the meddlesome
enchantment of your eyes,
the soothing quality of your voice
lends added validity to what you say.

the bloodred moon arises;
as you approach the marble steps.
i see you glance my way.
mayhap, noticing me in the shadows.

shall i choose to trust you, now?
yet, i hear the approaching chatter
that signals the need for propriety.
you need that of me, don’t you?

despite my habitual spontaneity,
the need to be more discerning is
of heightened relevance.

i already know this–
you are mine.
no need to rush the maelstrom.


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