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I see you in a clean-lined room,

Your golden silhouette faced away,

Your beauty is a daydream,

Your smiles ephemera,

Chuckles of unspoken arcane secrets that only lovers share.

But I am still a child,

And am not illuminated,

Not part of this hushed church of knowledge,

Of lovers and their smiles,

Your beauty forever unjustified in my paddling arms.

The knowledge of the child is just a question:

If he is alone,

If he will remain so,

And if the mother can ever bridge that gap she once birthed him out of.

Is love not just two asking one another,

If they think this too,

Bonded in mutual doubt,

Which shared becomes security?

I would give you my love,

If I knew what it was,

But you are just a silhouette,

And it is just a question.

As we try to mesh,

Shafts of lost light,

We intercross and pass each other,

Never to know when the two were one,

Since then they were neither of us.

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