"What's mine is yours,"

I wish I could fulfill your life with mine.
The feeling of two as one, nothing left undone,
Touch my things and leave oily prints.
Move them around; I'll find them again.
Or do you remember where you set it? I think you said you used it by the phone.

"My days are yours,"

The same sunrise glossing over slitted eyes.
They pull me in even when you've seen the worst in the night.
The shouting right beside me, or from the other room
As we go about routines, disturbing but not disrupting
It's okay with me, if it's okay with you?