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Tenderness




Tenderness

(From Within My Illusions)


we sit not talking as a breeze wafts

the pages of my book, and wisps of hair

tickle my face when they escape the hold

of an elastic band. your hand stretches

to nestle them behind my ear.


it’s not that we have run out of things to say

to one another. sometimes there’s just nothing

that needs to be said.

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