Home > poetry > One slip.

One slip.

It’s just three finger tips

two inches closer.

One slip,

and we touch.

We touch.

Sure, it means nothing.

Why should it?

We play too often,

and we pull back–

we jump back–

before someone gets hurt.

We like it that way.

But one slip,

and we touch.

 

 

 

 

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Categories: poetry
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