1 Hand

If I were 2 grab you by 1 hand,
Would you grant me the satisfaction of knowing that I am that man?
Am I the 1 to get to grips with that soft texture first?
Or are you deceivingly but amiably ambidextrous?
You assured me that, that hand belonged to me and only me,
Ignorance, arrogance: A fool 1 must be,

An example of ambidexterity like you, becomes universally luscious,
A smooth brown without tampering, with the long natural locks of a Libyan,
However you are doubled edged! Ambiguous as an amphibian,
Living two lives: above and below,
Am I playing the unsuspecting? above the water flow,
Do you have another that gives you different?
Wet and Wild, while I’ve become dry and consistent,
Land against Water, Left against Right,
My Love! You unintelligibly utilise both,
Separating only by day and night.

I wonder when we court and I escort you out, holding the 1 hand,
Is this a repetition spinning uncontrolled, such as the wings of 1 fan?
Am I the only 1 spreading you? Or is this largely unconscious such an albatross spreading its span?
Are we viewing entertainment that you have before?
You jump before it occurs, whilst I await the eyesore,
This has become asunder, invoking in me something uncomfortable,
I want the other hand, but you cover it as if it were something formidable.

I have only ever held the 1, but never 2.
It would seem this is how you separate. DO YOU?
I have become the loved up and all-giving fool,
Whilst you have rested your tail on a 2 legged stool.

Was I the only 1?
Not unless 1 is doubled against 2 in a sum,
YOU WERE THE ONLY 1!