you said you called yourself big and small
you are the fire of a scented candle that I am willing to bury my face into
though the internal monologues that you introduced have befuddled my territory
that was you finding out my predictabilities
you are the fresh air that I inhaled after getting out of a sauna
the presence of the old lady suddenly became so vivid
that was your loneliness curing my loneliness
I remember having your hands choking my neck from across the table
that was your intuition reaching out my insecurities
we managed to be as distant as possible from the subject
but we found temporary nests on each other
you made me want to die less, and wish to fly more
you said that I will know you more, and will like you less
but you knew that I am a snail
and you said it's ok to be tender
