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I’m Not Sure
I’m not sure
Where it got lost,
Perhaps it was
Just misplaced
Or left unused
Over time
And just faded
Into that place
Called distant
Memory,
The thought
Of which breaks
A smile so subtle
That only keen
Observers notice,
The thought that
Once tingled from
Fingertips to toes
Much like the thought
Of you naked does now.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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