In repose,
your short
night-time breathing
quarter-turned on the edge of the couch
until you faced my chest
and drifted peacefully.

Finding the right orientation
in coordinance to my prone form
took time, is all.
Fourth person in your family
to come around to the idea
of having an extra pair of legs
to walk y(our) dog
and tidy up
once you turn from my chest to face day.

Perhaps this is why,
my body locks itself away in the bathroom.
Subconsciously buying a little more time,
until your rotation finishes,
lands facing mine.

Because the trouble,
it seems,
is we (you and I)
have never said a thing,
we didn't mean.