Tonight, I feel slightly broken.
End-evening blues. When we’ve all walked away.
But tonight, for a while, it was good
to touch your arm,
to brush your back with my soft pads,
to see you turn to smile.
The things I do are never enough for my mind.
But maybe they’re enough for me.
You’re enough for me.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
Just a thought.
The last line is “You’re enough for me”
in a sort of
‘If I just have you, I’ll be okay’ sort of way.
Not in a
‘you’re good enough for me’ kind of way.
We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings now,
would we?