Proper Proportions 

One minute before midnight,

I could feel you on my skin

Goose bump covered tendrils

Your voice sinking in. You don’t

need to touch me to get in

It’s the feeling, it’s the feeling,

It’s the feeling – tingles on raw

skin; like we’re dancing,

Swaying; transported through

sayings and you talk so well

With a delightful edge of unreality

As if the two of us were living

Out a piece of fiction

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