There are days where I stay in you all day
Wrapping soft sheets around my exhaustion
Hiding from the world
Mostly you are made though
Meticulously tucked and folded
Into an Icelandic grey satin present
My fingers itching to unwrap you
Yuletide greetings all cozy and warm
To a sore frame in need of rest
I accomplish much on these days
Inner turmoil organized
A place for everything and everything in it's place kind of reassurance
Although I would be lying to myself if I said these days are my favorite
There is such extreme freedom in being able to tell the morning to *******
Turn over into your pillow
Stay there.
All day.
Rarely does this urge pass my frontal lobes
sometimes I just cannot help myself