We tenuous
and untitled
and mortal
as a moment is
not foresaken
but perhaps
generic or
gentle as
a notion
and genuine
as humility
before lust
or luster
before quarrel
and qualms
we sang
before we had
even a song
to sing
and talked
before
we had anything
to say
now enticed
to dream
now entangled
in delights
we wait
only for
an embrace
we wait
only for
you to
recognize us
to sweep us
up in your
quilted hands
like you would
the dust of chance
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