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Who are you?_ I whispered, leaning forward and reaching across the table to touch his sternly gorgeous face, almost afraid he__ disappear beneath my fingertips. __he face of an angel, the soul of a poet, and the fists of a fighter. I don__ know how to understand you, Mickey.__ickey caught my hand with his and then turned his head and pressed a soft kiss in my palm. ____ not the only poet at this table.
Lucy Connors The Lonesome Young
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Who are you?_ I whispered, leaning forward and reaching across the table to touch his sternly gorgeous face, almost afraid he__ disappear beneath my fingertips. __he face of an angel, the soul of a poet, and the fists of a fighter. I don__ know how to understand you, Mickey.__ickey caught my hand with his and then turned his head and pressed a soft kiss in my palm. ____ not the only poet at this table.

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