Losing
Forgive my capricious quirks,
my madcap subterfuges.
With closed eyes,
I could trace every
swooping curve of your face,
Every flex, bend, and sinew.
Sometimes, symmetry breaches
the immemorial span between our bodies.
Losing, then,
And fear of Losing
Becomes trite,
whimsical.
And You,
Paramount.
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