A Stroll on the Pier

It is close to dusk
as we walk along the pier
We stop and stare out at the
gold-winged, blue-green waves
crashing on the shore
We make small talk
and small gestures
All to mask
Our true desires
The urge to touch
is overwhelming
as is the need
to speak the truth
But I stop myself
I edit every word
censor every touch
We keep this innocent
this unexplainable
Undeniable connection.

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