A Game


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The games we play
Stop, take a minute
Amusing and sweet
Thoroughly delicate
The softness of You I appreciate
I can feel Your heart pulsating in the waiting
Or is it mine?
Can we cross this line?
Do You want to be mine?
Or I Yours? No remorse on this course we are on
Nothing forced, outsourced
Knowingly we sit here
Scoffing at the irony
Of want and don’t want
I like You and I don’t like You
I can feel Myself turning into a blob
Nothing more than a mob, robbed of My identity
Yes, I sobbed, You nod
What’s the point? Fog
And so on. Can we go on?
I want to. What will it be?
Until death devours us all

Ian Altosaar

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