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Of Connectingï»¿See how easily, crazily and readily I fling myself into you?Myself, in the very words nobody is allowed to see,Besides you â" Myself, in the aspects I show youOut of a longing for further connections.It's not even a matter of trust, or doing away with embarrassment.It's more the urgency of two souls tossed at sea,At disparate ends of the aching sea;The relevance that lies in the ability to stand naked,Before you, saying: âThis is it. This is everything I am.The clock is ticking against the bruised sky.So, what do you think?â
LinesDarling.I spent hours drawing you;I'm no artist, but the sketch is picturePerfect.Darling.I'm concerned;For though we are parallel lines,Parallel lines never meet.However.My slumbers convince me;As an example,Here's last night's dream:-Me, returning to my room,You, there, cheekily expectant.Me, stepping forward, unthinking,A double-take - I collect myselfAnd turn back to the door, andLock it.If the Cosmos is watching(Which it surely is),It sees:Two lopsided smilesFour feverish handsEight entwined limbs.Darling.Parallel lines waiver,Given the chance.