Where do I fit and
Where do you want me to fit and
Is it even possible to fit
Between your ten fingers and
Tucked neatly into your bedsheets?
Are your hands too full of your own flowers?
Have you forgotten, so soon,
What it’s like to fall in love, too soon,
With the person sleeping next to you?
I think I’d like to fight for you,
But only if you’d like to fight for me, too.
Have you been here fighting this whole time?