And as I crawl within it, I writhe
deeply past the warmth you’ve left behind
on the soft purple sheets which have pilled
and worn down to the last layer of
the threads holding them together.
Maybe one day I’ll change them,
but for now they garner your scent.
So, I take deep breaths as I steady myself,
nudging my way past the dull springs and splintered
planks that bind the bed we once laid in;
this bed we once played in.
Please let me bury myself so soundly,
so quietly that no one can find me––
and please remember I don’t not want to be found unless
I’m found by you.
While I rest, I watch as the Sun kisses the Moon goodnight.
Their children of Stars tell each other stories about life
of the night underneath their own bedding of soft clouds.
Oftentimes retelling tales of two lonesome souls who found
one another amidst a land consumed by
loneliness
and how the souls laid in bed together––just as the young Stars do.
Still, through their twinkling I can hear them say they hope
they’ll find a love like these lonely strangers because
It's a soft and kind love
just like their blanket of clouds.
Remaining within my burrow; deep, dark, and hidden underneath collections
of stains and pains, I find that nighttime is my favorite time of day.
For my ears catch reminders
of why I love you
from small whispers that pass through the night’s sky.
But before I know it, as days blend
together and the smell of you is about to disappear altogether,
my nostrils will widen to a familiar scent as a callused, remembering
hand draws back the tangled blankets.
--Miah J., Adult
