Implicit imperfections
A voice whispering words
Into my ear
Telling me what I should say
I could balance a beam
Along that tight rope
Which all of a sudden
Doesn't seem so tight
The magic of the moonlight
Doesn't touch your pale skin
No comparisons
Can be made of apples and oranges
I can remain as tight lipped about the whole thing
And leave you to tell the story of what happened
It had nothing to do with the whispering of words
Nothing to do with balancing beams
We scarcely noticed the moonlight
That night
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