When the sticky heat of summer cools to the milky morning of fall,
I remember it all.
When I think of when I held his hand and the smooth luster of his look,
I think of what he took.
When he asked me to help him and in reality he asked to help me,
I love what I see.
When I think of how I 'll never see the lines that draw his smile,
I sit a while.
When I recall all the emotion I feel and how it willed me to write this,
we should have kissed.
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