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Four AM

It’s four AM again and I can’t sleep
I didn’t hear your voice again last night.
I turn and fluff my pillow, tug the sheets
resist the urge to reach up for the light.

The morning sky is damp and gray
It’s raining, yet another day
and really, can I feel this way,
all stuffed with words afraid to say
while prudence dictates I delay

It’s not about those musky places,
but heart-to-hearts and face-to-faces,
us holding hands, our warm embraces,
and in your voice I find small traces
of comfort – my fear it erases.

The loud alarm now snaps me to my feet.
I shower in the dark.  The light’s too bright.
And when my morning ritual’s complete,
I’ll write down how I feel to set things right.

Resolved to share my thoughts with you,
my mind is racing as they brew.
Hoping I’ll not forget a few,
I recite phrases as they spew
’till pen and paper holds them true.

So, fearful that my reeling heart will show,
I’m careful with my words to not incite.
Yet feelings, too confused for me to know,
wash over me and fill me with delight.

For I suspect you feel the same
not sure enough, my heart to claim.
We’re caught up in a heady game,
where too much fervor might inflame
and then we’d have ourselves to blame.

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