The kind of love
where minds meet
Giggling into the night
tucked under our sheets
Hiding from the others
in makeshift dens
Peeping and plotting
through a make believe lens
Make believe tea time
in our make believe home
I mimic “I’ll be mother”
you roll your eyes
and groan.
Sitting proud
at our tiny table
made just for us
While grown ups 
bustled around
and gossiped
and fussed.
We could never know
what horrors
would meet us
It must be a mistake,
that you can’t chose your family,
it must
Because I would have chosen you
Every time.
My love.

Published by


writer, musician, artist, joiner

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