there are these moments
when eager eyes align
and I feel the bliss
of everything I want
blinking twice
our hands no longer touch
and I wonder
if all I want
is as wonderful as I believed
sometimes tears form behind such eyes
trapped behind panes of glass
never falling
dare not unveiling
the melting or hardening
of a heart of tin
is such ecstasy
in existence
merely coupled with such exquisite pain
and was this frightful tugging
in my chest
what I'd really craved all along
to be not one nor his
but to be of pain
interwoven with moments greater
than the boundaries of infatuation
allure more comforting
and far less consuming
somewhere betwixt satin sheets
sleeping intermittent with the stars
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