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Mosquito in the Closet |
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in the places where our bodies meet |
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and your skin is taut |
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by my hand's relief |
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the faint imprint |
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of our sensual unfolding |
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and the curves of your sides |
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like lullabies |
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sing me into |
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this unlikely dream |
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and like insects fly |
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to the nearest light |
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we seek the place |
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where we can finally burn |
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desire |
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like flame |
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and we can singe our wings |
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on the scent of pure release |
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where we break out of cocoons |
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so confining |
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so unnecessary |
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and we are swimming |
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with the creatures of the sky |
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and they can't bring us back down |
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not with the taste of supple freedom on our lips |
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they can't bring us back down |
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they won't bring us back |
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in the places where our bodies meet |
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and where we get caught |
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tracing lines beneath |
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the framework |
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that holds us |
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together and apart |
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but if we learn to wake |
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in the places we forsake |
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then we can realize |
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this unlikely dream |
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and like insects fly |
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to the nearest light |
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we seek the place |
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where we can finally burn |