You could be my pillow.
Soft, inviting. A comfort,
as I leave love-dents,
impressions of myself
moulded to your essence.
My arm thrown around
yielding body, as I turn
this way and that, hand
under cheek trying to get
all comfy and settled.
It's not that you fit me;
It's how I'm tangled round
every part of you, and vice
versa. We're not like a
glove to a hand, or even
similar by being opposite -
We just mesh.