You didn’t curl your toes up,
Next to mine.
But you read Lovecraft,
A beat out of time.
I watched your curls,
Silky and dry,
Thought how nice it would be,
If this were our house.
I curled up so many times on your parents couch,
Reading and wondering what it would be like,
To have a life with you.
I knew, it wouldn’t work.
I can’t be the Stepford wife.
But I loved when you were close,
Reading with that voice,
A comical adaptation, of fears without faces,
That made me curl my toes up,
As I curled into you.
