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  • I want to weep
    for I was never a warm person
    Polite, yes, stoic, yes
    yet never inviting.

    The tactile touch does not come
    nor is it given away easily
    These things are not
    natural to me.

    Niceties don't amount to
    Expressionless monotones
    don't lead to openness.

    My lucid moments of
    tenderness, though
    Come as surprises to many,
    more or less, everybody.

    I shall stop bearing
    so much cold inside of me
    Lest I get hardened
    from the inside to be.
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