The thinner ice

I think the oxytocin

Is clouding my judgement

Your fingers softly entangled

In mine

Slow movements

Chest against chest

The question marks we exchange

In the spaces between moments

And I can’t tell if it’s the heat

Of this moment, or the warmth

Of us that’s got under my skin

But I’m bored here without you

Having to catch myself

Before my imagination

Turns this game into a weapon

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