he took her poetry
and wrapped himself
up in it.

even though it was not warm
and it did not love him.
he knew.

but he said it made him feel right
when he was with it
he was whole.

so I let him twist well into it
let him have his way
with my poetry.

but I was too late to pull him out
when his eyes hit mine
last night.

he became me, and I became him