Held

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You.

You who I hold, fingertips placed against the smol of you back. I pull you closer. Begging for your touch, begging for the taste of your lips.

Sure as the sun will rise from the horizon, I will ache for you.

No, we are not two but one.

Not people, but person.

See, I can't tell where my skin ends and where yours begins.

A monotone "yes". I can't get my voice above this octive, the catch in my throat.

I choke.

Your radiance is transcendent.

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