Love On Reserve

We knew love had no space.

No choice, but to force it into

tight space. We handled with

delicate hands.

Anticipating expansion,

while we played like kids,

laugh like old friends.

Love was on reserve.

His smile was infectious.

His dimples, imprinted in my mind.

Emulating his smile like it was mine,

all mine.

I knew him when love was foreign

and a touch meant nothing.

And nothing became something.

And somethings meant everything.

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