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Returning
Running along the Beach, Joaquim Sorolla, 1908
I sense adolescence
in your presence.
I feel overwhelmed by emotions
that I only really know
from youthful notions.
Looking over a shoulder
to catch the rise of a breast
passing notes in a classroom
declaring an innocent love
but one no less strong for that.
These memories have
returned with a vengeance
reminding me of my pubertarian awkwardness
inviting me to raise my game
making me want to love in a way I have never done before.
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Should?
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