Tu Alma

Your innocence goes through me
Like a cold wet wind
Right to my bones
Right to my very soul
Where it stirs things better left unstirred
Like a delicate flower or a raging fire
I am afraid to touch you
But I feel compelled to reach out
In a careless moment
I might reach for you
Maybe to hold you close to me
To taste your warm moist breath
But like my soul
There are things better left unstirred

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