a poem.
the cliff
i love you
not the way a mother loves you
your mother
or a lover
i don't love you the way
that your lover might;
with held hands and secrets
that you should not be privy to; your
hands, big and broad and my
hands which i keep to myself
i love you in the way
that makes me ask you to stop
(stop)
when you are about to run off
that cliff and you
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