It fits.
It just simply does.

My arm fits behind your head,
as we lie on the bed, in the glow.

Your head on my shoulder,
comfortable and light.

It fits.
It just does.

Staring at the ceiling;
at the cobweb on the fan.

Nobody cares. There are no thoughts,
just reverie, and peace. Just to be.

It fits.
It just fits.

This life with you,
and who we are.

This growth togeth...

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