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Friday, December 12, 2003

when we dance

your hip
is cold
but quickly warms
to the touch
of my hand
i can't stand
the anticipation
killing me
softly
you lay
your arm
around my neck
and seem to peck
my cheek
without even
touching me
it must be
the drink
in my hand has
made it's way
between my lips
and i'm starting
to feel a bit
tipsy
see
that must be it
don't even trip
i know we're
only dancing
it's just that
now
your hips
feel so
hot
beneath my
fingertips


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