another love poem, but for another

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i think you are forbidden fruit
but there is no sign pleading me not to bite,
and i don't know
if this gate is worth opening
in my trembling hands

chapped lips make you grimace
when you think you might kiss them,
what if i was to scar your perfection,
could i ever ask to hold your shoulders when i find myself unable to stand?

your sister sits at the dining room table
as you eat cereal on the couch
i know i'm a little early,
your feet are bare and the floor creaks under your skinny body;
is there a possibility in making you forget all you've ever known,
so you could allow yourself to love me,
so that you could be my kind of man?

we could dance to folk music
in the garden
we could run in highways
your hands could get stuck in my hair,
sticky sweet from paint and turpenoid,
your sweet whispers and the sight
of you walking my dog
melting me
into something malleable
to stretch in your palms
it hasn't been long,
but the grass seems to grow faster,
and the sun
sets slower.

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