hoped i could
outkiss
you
mistaking every
chance for
a test,
while i should have
yielded to the
wet
of passion on
my lips.
longing
move on, but only
far enough
to leave me
missing
that which can’t
be reached
with these arms
in longing.
under
the awning,
it appeared
you were yearning
in ways could be barely
contained,
and it took but
a moment
to see moisture
falling
was not only
rain.
hands in the garden 
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