crumpled and lost like orphan squirrels,
too tired to scurry from my fingers fumbling
through your matted hair.
muddy tears drying into dirty cakes on your cheeks,
we curled inside eachother's small arms.
"i love you this much," fingers held apart
by arms stretched to show.
but space means space and i don't think you understood,
that "this much" means further than fingertips spread.
i was balancing out the troublemaker in you,
and you were trying not to be curious.
mum always said to me, "learn through dennis our menace:
curiousity killed the cat."
i do not think she meant to be so literal,
but later i learned about loss with my palm
pressed hot against charred carpet,
a circle the size of large fists, clasped.
"i love you this much," hands tired and clenched
inside coverall pockets. these arms limp to show
its not the same after i pretend forget your name.