turn me into
Fibonacci sequence

let me
curl up
in your arms
exactly proportional
to your love

balance, perhaps

leave you with conundrums of regret:
did you
love me enough; did
you love me truly?

remembering how
you too used to curl, even coil
like a
snake, a snail, a
spiral nebula
against me, around me

matching me perfectly
outside and, yes, inside