Held

Warmth in the mind of a lover

Held almost to the end

She could be more than a friend

Close enough to be connected together

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Packed like sardines in the tin

Close together in a place so spread about

Lying down with senses tense and lout

Feeling not the world but what they want in

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Still position that seems to change

Fluid and gentle, never disturbs

Hair brushes against the cheek of tiny girth

No irritation, just a feeling of that stage

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No contact between the eyes

Faces already known too well

The only unknown thing that dwells

When will such a moment turn its head and die?

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When will they let it end?

The answer is always never

Nothing would stop the calming fever

In a moment where there is no extra time to lend

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Oh! But that point that will always come

Time has a way it likes to flow

It passes so quick in an effort so slow

Sands slip as they go to the run

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The act may stop for a moment in time

But the circle goes round again

An everlasting chain

But the slowness of it feels so unkind

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Later on it will happen once more

Different person, time or place

All can be replaced

But the feeling is never worn