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the tango was in my head as I wrote this |
| the friction of my shoes lifting me up I fly across the floor into your arms your hand at my back mine at your shoulder right clasped in left the formality of position gives me something to push away I meet your eyes are you worth wanting? I dismiss you walk away until you pull me close until your leg is between mine the motion follows our heartbeats the heat of our eyes the longing line count: 19 |