Your soul, it is the cynosure.
I’m lost in my affinity.
Your voice, a lilting song to me,
I hold my breath to hear you speak.
The shift, it moves first through my blood,
Into the heart that deeply loves.
First timorous, with trepid jolts,
The shudder that becomes a flood,
The spark, the flame that starts a fire.
Your body is the warmth I seek.
The flush that’s spreading from your smile.
I melt in your propinquity.
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