We strip off fears at the end of day, discarded on the floor like our jeans, pocket change spilling out. Our worth at the moment. Exposed to one lover or another, we try to get back what we may never have had. We fumble, we always do, to find comfort, acceptance, least likely common companionship. Fragments of our self given away with each kiss, every awkward touch. We gain, we hope, more than brazen confidence or release from all that has held us back. Often, only to remain, as available as bundled up socks bedside. Did we dare and where did it take us?
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