An Answer

September 2, 2011
Take it off.
Your shirt, your pants, your skin;
the eyes, restless, that peel away worries;
I want what's inside,
I want to see you tick.
You're so good at this game -
dress-up hide-and-seek invisibility,
infamiliarly perfect in the mask, red cheeks,
raised eyebrows,
fooling me every single time.
Round and round we go,
merrily, to and
fro, sparingly, from
heaven to hell
this is no longer a choice.
I see pulses of light;
green, blue, indigo, whatever -
is that a spark?
Is that... Love?
Give it to me.
Give it to me, now.

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