he moulds his body to hers
he always said, "like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle"
and she always rolls her eyes
and stops herself from asking about the missing pieces
he curves into the softness behind her knee
his chest aligns perfectly with her back
because they "fit"
but sometimes his arm around her waist
feels too heavy
she tried to tell him
"we fit perfectly only when we sleep"
but he misunderstood -
took it to mean that she liked falling asleep
with him inside her
another piece of the intricate puzzle
he moulds his body to hers
and she inches away
thinking
the spaces might deceive him
and he'll think - as always in cliches
that they've grown apart
but he doesn't
so she takes to sleeping afternoons
and at night, while he sleeps
she sits in the living room
watching the hands of the clock move
endlessly in circles
never going anywhere
"like me" she thinks, in a cliche
she gets up
and quietly goes back to bed
