It’s dark but for the few thin slits of light that break through the blinds
I claim my spot as I half-sit, half-lay on the chaise
and I look around my new place,
scanning every corner and thinking of ways to make it feel like home
I move a plant here, one there
until I suddenly realize
home is a person,
not a place.
He sits on the other side of the couch,
Intently looking at the tv and nodding
Completely unaware of just how much, and how often, I like to observe him
memorize his face; the black of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the ridge on his chin
Once I even watched him as he slept-
I timed his breaths
Then smiled at the sudden convulsions I have somehow gotten accustomed to.