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The Truth

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He pokes my side
I glare at him,
Playfulness
visible in my eyes
Stop
I say
Not really meaning it
Hoping he keeps
Teasing,
Playing,
Flirting.
He pokes me again
This time
I grab his hand
And squeeze
He squeezes harder
And I squeeze my hardest
But he thinks im playing
Not knowing
That I don’t want to let go
I let go
Of his hand
With a silent sigh
Wishing I had
the courage
the bravery
the confidence
to tell him
the truth.





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