The Dance

He advances —
slowly, politely,
unwittingly baring his soul
across pages
of old stories.

She steps —
hopefully, hesitantly,
eagerly snooping
at private thoughts
penned long ago.

They circle —
predator and prey,
each pieces of the other,
waiting for the other
to flinch first.

She stops
and smirks.

He smiles
and lunges.

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