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Skewed we were skittish.
I needed perspective.
Something I lost in
moments entangled with you.
I needed your soul. To tell me I found
a bit of myself at last.
So, it’s true.
These moments I cherish.
A man. Glimpsing you from afar.
A woman. In her looking glass.
Who are you?
Ofttimes, it was me, falling.
Peering, as if demure; rising, as
if I knew.
Let me touch your rune.
That hazy portal beheld by
those we scorned.
As a pensive man, shorned.
As a woman, adorned.

2/15/14