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Angst

Was that your arm around my shoulders?
How could I possibly concentrate
on anything right now? I’m losing my mind
thinking of all the ways this could go wrong;
I squirm, you squeeze, I squish your hand
against my back. Oh no!
Can I take it back? Do-over, anyone?
I wish I knew what to say,
or how to tell you that I really do
want to hold your hand, and discuss
the world, and God, and politics, and everything
else we can think of, staying up until
the wee hours, not caring about the time,
just sharing our lives.





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