You fit so well with my philosophy
and even better with my lips.
You told me once
about the married couple
you were fucking.
You said it got out of control but
I don't think you'd decided yet
whether to regret it.

You fit just right with my philosophy.
Your hand fists in my hair like longing,
rests in the small of my back
like it belongs.
You and I both know how to love
a few too many people
all at once.
Still, neither of us is any good
at giving ourselves away.

You fit too close to my philosophy
and to third pints of Danish beer.
My thumb on your cheek,
down the line of your jaw.
You're so easy to touch
but you're braver than I
and I've made promises
to a man I ought to keep.

His philosophy and mine are far apart.