Her wrist fit the curve of my jawline

I know this because we fell asleep

(she forgot to sneak out before drowsiness became her nemesis)

Somewhere in the tangled sheets and empty space between us,

Her hand cupped my cheek and my face fit perfectly against it

Humans aren’t made for each other like the way bunnies are made to repopulate and trees to absorb carbon

Our hands aren’t made to be held or mold to another’s skin

But even the universe- even evolution- makes mistakes sometimes

She was mine