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image I like you in those pictures Which no one particularly likes, Those blue shirt soft hued ones Where nothing but liquid vapour like your naked emotion strikes. You look brazenly vulnerable, With those softly lit eyes And hair that’s been breezy, a little unruly there Quite like you trying to hold  Clouds of reflected goldsmear In those wet lashes,  brushed by delicate tears: Not sharp, or too crisp and wavy, l ike some blade that could bite; Or words that smack derision,  stinging and slight. It is here, in these  unjacketed unimposed poses That I have loved you most Tender and sensitive Staring sadly from your moat And I want to put my arm across And bring that blue collar close Held by my hand, like it were craning A proud purpled Zinnia on its stalk And looked straight and deep into the eyes With a love to be never lost Then to be caressed  By the back of the hand And by my nimble fingers That soft stubbled cheek of yours Ever so gently as a reminder Of your own forgotten  softness as a charm Where more real than real And tangible than intangible Was our holding to each other More humane yet strong  and impeccable was our bond. I loved you only for your gentleness No looks could do it, the way words handled ungaurded fragile mess. Like once cradled a petal holding dew, Oh I miss you; of those genteel times alone Though the heart still beats inside of you, But now it stopped feeling for me It seems like you’ve turned to stone