The place in between where you end and I begin

is becoming less and less visible to the naked eye

There used to be space enough for opinions

Objections

Ostentatiousness 

And now there is no room, or else I am going blind 

I have yet to decide if this new arrangement sits well with my soul

If I’m ok with scooting over a little,

unpacking some of my own things, thoughts,

and making space for you within my little niche of the universe I had carved out 

with only room for one in mind 

Your opinions take up a bit too much space in the dresser drawer in the back of my consciousness 

and sometimes, at night, when I want to sprawl out, 

I forget you are there in our twin bed, and we butt heads in the dark

Did we become one when I wasn’t looking?

Sew up the seams of our heart strings and throw away the key?

Just maybe this will be ok

Just maybe, if you let that last millimeter of my soul roam when it is feeling breezy

But with you I am more me, myself, and I

As though I didn’t know who I really was until you showed me who I really can be

How is it that one can go through life

feeling entirely whole

and then suddenly one night when you aren’t there

our twin bed feels like an ocean

When did my sock drawer become our sock drawer

And when did I become so absolutely ok with it?