Do you ever want to crawl inside a duvet like a tomb.
Jun 1, 2013

Do you ever want to crawl inside a duvet like a tomb.
To have the warmth pressing in on all sides,
Like the hug you always crave
but never receive.
Blocking out the outside world.
All light,
All senses,
Like a temporary death.
Trying on your coffin as you would try on a dress.
You slow your breathing
and squeeze your eyes shut so tight, you’re seeing spots.
Can literally feel time moving around you,
Can hear the sound of rain pattering on the roof
and it’s like the heavens are falling.
You’re in your own world
In your own galaxy.
Far away from the body lying on its bed wrapped in its duvet.
Distanced from the problems,
the troubles,
and the beating of your own heart.
Craving for this to never end,
And maybe it doesn’t have to.

we're only separated *by the duvet on my bed*
Circa 1994
Circa 1994
Nov 18, 2013

Remember the first time
I told you that I adore you?
And you said it made your stomach feel strange,
in a good way I suppose.

I get that same
pleasantly strange feeling
when I think of touching you,
or you touching me.
Or even just lying within arms length of of each other.

It starts
in my stomach
and leaves a tingling trail
throughout my hips.
Sometimes retreating to my lips.

Sometimes I pretend
we're only separated by the duvet on my bed
instead of the Atlantic ocean.

I had a dream once
You kissed me
Laced your perfect little big bony
Fingers around mine
You picked me up
I looked in your eyes
And saw my home
Your perfect little big blue
Ocean eyes
And you felt like home
Warm and perfectly cool
Safe and dangerous
And my heart
Felt too content to stand it

Now I just lay on your chest
And listen to your body
Looking at my hand in yours
Feeling torn
Because my home can never be mine
You love one thing
I love another
And that's not acceptable
I'm a mess
I don't care
I want you
I want to be trapped inside you
Inside my perfect little world
My home

Safe in your walls
Safe in your perfect little big walls

#love   #broken   #home  
Peyton duvet
Peyton duvet
Aug 24      7 days ago

I feel too much to contain
I won't let you know
Friends who do this
Because we can't do anything else
So I do this
Hoping fearing
One day you will find this
Find me

I take a deep breath
It's too fast
I'm not slowing down
Because  I  l o v e  y o u
Words I have been angry at
But now they apply
You laugh
I roll my eyes
You lure me without doing a thing
Your sad sappy glance
The secret kiss when you leave me
And go into an unknowing
The smell of your
Chest. Your lips. Your hair.
I look at every part of you
The way you pull me in
The way your lips form simple words
The way your eyes get soft
As you take me in too

I sleep
Content and fearless
Because In that moment
The world does not exist
Just us
Just your grasp on my waist
Just every little thing about you
Tearing my heart apart
As I look at you
And I can't tell you

#love   #falling  
From the depths of my duvet sleep
Mar 8, 2010

From the depths of my duvet sleep
Your voice commands;
An arrow through the distance between
You and I, it made me
Take up the shutters
Of my insular shell
To welcome the night,
Lit by a mere halogen moon,
No Goddess for me to praise-
Only thick wraiths of choking smoke,
Absorbing what to you is a perfect orb
Of singular clarity

this Duvet day to end quickly.
Marieta Maglas
Marieta Maglas
Aug 24, 2013

It was a kid-glove orange, a

leaf, or a Dancy tangerine

falling from the tree. I didn't

see it. I was watching a dance

of anger on TV while learning

to swing in a way that left me

needing my forlorn hope. The

change did not occur. Outside,

a drunk driver wearing zipper-skin

orange driving gloves swerved

sharply and hit my old, gnarled

tree during imbuing my hearing

with sexual innuendo. He could

not escape his awkward accident.

Much later, I heard that he had

suffered from Saint Vitus's dance.

In time, no one was able to heal

the wounds of my soul. I wanted

this Duvet day to end quickly.

A Thomas Hawkins
A Thomas Hawkins
Jul 25, 2010

Ease me slow into the day
wake me gently from my sleep
if you must steal me from my dreams
the highlights let me keep

Don't wake with a noisy bell
or unexpected calls
wake me with the sound of rain
as on the metal roof it falls

Rouse me with sounds of nature
rising winds before the storm
give me time to close the shutters
before returning to the warm

If you could do this in the morning
and wake me in a gentle way
For once I'd take the day off
and in my bed I'd stay.

that doubles as a duvet for her bed.
Jun 28, 2010

She  shuffles and scuttles quickly along
beating her way,
through the Christmas throng

The north wind cutting  her mottled face
But shes not part of the Christmas race
For things not needed, luxurious, unwise
Her mind fixed on the price and size
Of a winter coat in that Oxfam place,
she prays its still there, she quickens her pace.

The bell dings-a-ling as she opens the door
Not feeling her legs so tird and sore
Like a long lost friend it waits on the rail
she thanks her god its still for sale.

Her hurry finished, her purchase complete
She focuses now on something to eat

To the corner shop she makes to go
happier now  , her step is slow
bread and milk ,this and that
two tins of food for her little cat

Home at last her mission complete
She models her coat and warms her feet
She cuddles her cat and locks her door
She makes their tea and she cuddles him more

She dims the light her prayers are said
She thanks her god for her winter coat
that doubles as a duvet for her bed.

copyrite: Heidi 2008
  trek ek weer, soos kleintyd, die duvet oor my kop
Pieter Andries Christiaan

Vanaand vou ek my snoesig toe
                                                                          in die soet-droom blou lug
iewers tussen die maan en die sterre...

                                                                        en as die liggies  my pla
                                   trek ek weer, soos kleintyd, die duvet oor my kop
                                                                                                    en verbeel myself dat
                                                             en jou honger hande
                             nie in die werled bestaan nie!!

                                                                                                                    Ek kruip dan in die sagte plekkies
                                                                                                                van ontstuimige oseane...
                                                                                                                             so tussen deur die nate van
                                                                                                   die brekende golwe...
                                                                                           en le terug as die trek
                                                                                                            van moegheid my kom haal...
                                                                                                                        en terwyl die vloeiende satyn
                                                                                                                                     my wange streel...

                                     maak ek my oe toe
                          en glimlag

Nov 23, 2010

I recently read that in order to flourish,
    one must build a proper foundation.
So, I painted my bathroom...
    and I'm still not peaceful.

I buy things, and arrange them in a certain way.
I work for six days, and sleep on the seventh,
  and since I can't bring these things into heaven,
  I should just burn it all down and face the elements.
Know what I'm sayin'?

I don't see much of a point to any of this.
  Buying shit and keeping it.
  Dusting it, adjusting it.
  Fixing it, fussing it.
          Fuck it.

I'd be far more productive if I were free of these luxuries
  that we all hold so dearly.
I'd see more clearly with nothing interfering.
          Severe healing.
Myself, reappearing.

To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment