Do you want me there, every time you turn over in bed, every room you walk out of and into, in your spot on the sofa, with your remote in my hand?
Do you need a minute?
I'm not sure why people do that, I'm not sure why I want that, if I want that.
Am I being selfish, not wanting to share my space?
But also wanting to share my space.
You invade it, slide into it, spill over my rough edges and then I notice you there, how long have you been there?
I'll share my morning hair, coffee breath and bad singing because I've decided missing you is worse.