Am I too much for you? I never am
too much for me, and you seem
for a wonder to be
sometimes even more into me
than I generally am. You make me
reach deep for things to pull
and you move me still
and I just come out with the darnedest
stuff of dreams and glam and fancy, and
of nothing sham. Like a kid who says
the darnedest things, and who wouldn't stop
now for anything
but I worry - never while engaged
in interaction, while we stage
and set and play our schemes
and skits - but afterwards
I wonder why
I gave so much,
and into it.
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