Of silhouettes.

I long for you like the moon drawn to the sun; safe distance.

You have an angel’s face. I sometimes wonder if you are real. You are like a dream; surreal. 

I crave your deepest, darkest desires. I want to keep you to myself but it is wrong. You soar high, and a cage for you does not make sense. 

So I wait, at a distance. I ran my fingers through your silhouette. So long as I can draw you, I can love. 

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