I remember when my pillow had a shirt.

Laying in bed every night it was gripped tight
And there were wrinkles not creases
And the silence was so ceaseless
Laying in deadest night made memories my light

The shirt, sized small and plaid.

Now the cold morn feels so warm.
And I know no more old guilt
And it's a lilting life I've built
Distorted social norms
Former perceptions deformed.

**A box in a closet, now folds, unworn.