It’s my need for warmth that makes me settle, into that space there is between you.

It’s not often that one’s held as well and yet, there’s a secret to the settling in too –

like a thread between two threads in the hands of a weaver is woven into a single fabric.

I must beware, for pulling towards one, or, towards the other, could cause it to tear,

letting all warmth slip out between the two of you.