Your hands were quaking
As you brushed a few stray hairs from my face,
Betraying your anticipation,
Which rose to meet the nervous mist
Lingering above our heads,
A quiet testament to your innocence,
Acutely contrasting my impurity.
You flashed me that sideways schoolboy grin
And I forgot the treachery in what I was about to do.
I lost my wits in the charm of the gesture, and
Closing my eyes only managed to magnify my aching to begin,
As you stood before me silently shaking.
A whisper barely audible above the rambunctious background din
Escaped my anxious, trembling lips.
“Turn out the lights.”
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