I feel the cozy, warm, soft and pure sheet around my back, shoulders and arms, it’s so light it’s so soft until it tightens its grip and you feel its hip. The sheet becomes hard and cold when you feel its eyes digging into your cries. Tight and dark when the sheets chest presses onto your *******. Suffocating and breaking when its neck feels like a whole ship wreck around my aching neck . The river down my cheeks even if I know that it was just a wrap around me.
Something short, something easy, something hard, something dark. That’s the recipe for a good poetry