Poem: The Touch Without A Touch

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On a night out on a bench not far away

‎A lanky one sat minutes away

With our eyes and gestures

‎My pain became his own as my lead his way

My ailment became his fear, his wing my strength

His words my liberation, my play his joy

His jokes my delight‎, my image his quiver

My beauty his pride, his ‎wisdom my ladder

My presence his passion, his power my rise

His lips my shiver, my skin his yearning

My scent his weakness, his skin my limits

His prayer my love, my love his prayer

My tears his pain, ‎his pain my lapse

My growth his prayer‎, his empire my strength

In one night, little strangers like us filled our spirit

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