She wrote me poems,
promised to give me whatever my heart desired,
wanted all of me in return.
I never felt the need to shrink,
there was always room for us both.

She was kind, caring,
utterly passionate—
and when the universe conspired against us,
she found a loophole.

My words never dried
in her quiet curiosity,
not like they did with you.
She longed for me,
craved my presence,
just as I once did with you.

She’s everything you’re not,
and though my soul feels safe,
my heart is warm,
held in comfort,
she’s not you.