A towel asked, a towel brought,
but not quite placed the way I thought.
I long for care in little things,
thoughtfulness in what he brings.
Don\'t control me, sharp and fast
as if control is my ask.
I only mean, \"Please see me too —
the how is part of love my coo.\"
Small moments turn to silent wars,
yet underneath, my heart implores:
not just a towel on a hook,
but proof he sees inside my book.