The Spooning

A poem

Photo by Jacob Rank on Unsplash

They didn’t make sense together.

She knew it, but she’d always swoon
at the way he spooned,
those nights in the light
of the shadowy moon.
As his warm arms wrapped every part of her,
all that mattered seemed just that,
as everything outside would simply fade out.

But everything outside was waiting right there;
to gush in as soon as those arms would loose
their grip, and remind her…

…they didn’t make sense together.