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The moon is not quite full, but swollen and tilted like a distracted lover. Bright and beautiful as she is, my eyes cannot but shy away to seek the object of her rapt attentions. I quiver and sweat a bit and shake and make small circles of my gazing and turning and nervously glancing. Drawn by beauty and repelled by neglect, I wind into myself and knit my shy mind into a knot of still quaking - a place to remain between obsession and forgetting.