The Inbetween
Everything chokes up,
But in a good way,
I think.
Being tickled by imaginary hands, but your words are all so real.
Maybe denial seems like the right word;
Am I ready to admit to this satisfaction?
The worse the idea, the more appealing it feels.
For you to reel me in,
Effortless,
My restraints are none.
I have no caution.
Throw me to the wind, with foolish delirium we’ll fly.
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