A delicate shying of our words.
The conscious prying behind.
In scattered embraces where we learned.
Without shadows of past in mind.

Interwoven surrender like lace discarded.
Gasps of breaths stolen fair.
Elegance in endless rhythms consorted.
Without worries of what to wear.

The welcomed straying from devotions faint.
Contentment and peace my welcomed guest.
A 'yes dear' buoyancy now my cruel fate,
without wisdom to handle the rest.

Alas my ally, muse, lover and friend,
without our beginning, there could be no end.

"...may not meet professional standards."
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