Turning In - A poem

I was the one who
fuming with wine
muffled my buckle
with a mock comic
finger to lip

I who tipsy
tripped up through
the kitchen’s cats
muttering cursing
suffering vinyl
all to turn the tap

I you heard
flop into bed
roll onto your side and
maybe smell
my soft whispering
plea to sleep

and I who clumsy curled
my arm around
which ached
and moved
to part

I was the one
who nearly woke you
breathe in peace
rest well