that’s how close we are, that intermittently
I can feel the imprint of the orange on and beneath your shirt
and the citrus tang of your effortless work
around and around your stomach and my nose

(I secretly long to say tummy
to draw your giggles to my shoulders and my thumbs to your side
feel you breathe, my pressed palms wide
as your goosebumps subtitle your stop and your go)

but your dimpled curves flush me shy to my core
and knowing your shape we never could compare
so, rocking my hips to the roll of your [chuckles]
I faithfully remain your fruitless friend ‘N’.

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