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Was I
ever wrong?
You're asking me?

I was
wrong nearly
start to finish.

Could I
make amends,
I wouldn't try.

I can't pretend
what I've
done is some

thing I can fix.

Don't erase
all the pain,
all the hurt -
you know it was me.

My failure
of feeling,
of motion,
and failure to see

You, as you, without
my perspective skewed,
without my intent
slipping from
benevolence
and into
malevolence.

Darling, the
dead night,
the lonely
bedsheets
fit my crime
fine, but
are not
punishment
enough.
i have such a warm family,
such a warm heart,
such a warm jumper,
such a warm bed,
but this house is just so cold right now.
home doesn’t feel like home right now...
i’m struggling a bit with feeling at home in my own home.
i don’t feel happy here, but that’s my problem to figure out.
~s
My bed is the only thing I can trust in this world.

My bed understands me when I can't express myself.

My bed takes care of me when I'm in my hardest times.

My bed tells me to see the world every time and to comeback to dream on it at night.

My bed never hurts me and always tries its best to make me feel comfy and happy.

My bed is perfect for me and never shall I betray it.

My bed, if one day you read these messages, please know that I feel for you of the most sincere, idealistic and deep love possible;

Dear bed, stay with me forever, we complete each other, grow together, overcome our flaws, weaknesses and hardships together, and if the world would come to an end please know that you're the one with who I shall spend my last times with.

Put simply, I love you.
My grandma's hands,
My mum's lap,
My dad's chest,
Were ideal pillows,
But, my pillow,
My bedfellow,
My partner of crimes,
In all my emotional times,
Has a story to tell.
Night is when she lets go,
I, the pillow bear the blow.
I get tossed, thumped and battered when she is angry,
And when she is full of joy,
I am smooched with hugs,kisses
and cuddles,
When she is sad,
I witness her pain,
She can fool anybody but not me,
Her tears pour out on me ,
I am drenched,
At last she falls asleep,
Curled into a ball, hugging me tightly.
I smell of her, I love her,
I understand the pain of her tears,
The ecstasy of her laughter,
And all her secrets I hold within me.
She and I, forever together.
11/2/2019
m h John Feb 8
I know you here me when I cry,
Or when I stay up talking
Through most of the night.
You only come to see me
In my dreams,
In my dreams
Is where I should be
Instead of in this bed
Without you here
Next to me
I can only feel the presence through my sleep
Carl Miller Feb 6
My bedroom ceiling, I've noticed, is not perfectly smooth
A vast little land with little bumps, bruises, stains, and holes
I like to lie and think of the little battles that took place there
Just above My restless head while the nightlights sway and soothe

My brother sleeps across the room, loud, roaring, and snoring
Enough to keep Me up past midnight, enough to make Me scream
Every hiccup, belch or restless motion, tosses him up like an upset ocean
And as I lie there, growing tired, I begin to find his noises boring

My canine ears enjoy eavesdropping
On animals, cars, people and things
An airplane soaring, a gondolier oaring
The neighborhood dog growling and barking, or My sister's movie night popcorn popping

My stuffed pets lie, awake with Me too
They won't drift off to sleep until I do
I hold My stuffed dog, Rover, to My chest
Trying to sleep, at My father's behest

There will be evenings, just like this one, where I climb into bed, and lie awake at night
Where sleep will cleverly evade Me, and dreams will ignore My every plea
But blessed am I, to be safe in My bed, safe in My home, safe with My family
There's always a chance, that You can drift off to sleep, as soon as You turn out the ceiling's light
Written 02/06/19

Everyone has nights where they can't fall asleep. I wrote this late one of those nights. And this poem transcends My every thought when I think of drifting off to sleep. Feel free to give this one a read if You're feeling sleepless. God Bless.

-Carl
Em Feb 4
I'm the theory in your head
I'm the theory that's painted red
Planted in your garden bed

The choir of furies in your stead
The pack of doubts that never fled
She's the monstrosity that tore you to shreds
And I'm the ghost that saw how you bled.
L IF E IS STRANGE ANYONE???
idc idk what im doin
hewp
Thorns Feb 4
T O  C L O S E  Y O U R  E Y E S
A N D  R E S T  Y O U R  H E A D
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F E E L  R E L I E V E D
T O  B E  I N  B E D
E V E N  I F  Y O U  L A Y  A L O N E
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Y O U  W A T C H  H E L P L E S S L Y
A S  Y O U  S
                       L
                        I
                          P
I
   N
      T
         O
A  D A R K  D E M I S E
O F  T H O U G H T L E S S  R E S T
I  G O T  N O  S L E E P
N O N E
0
Z I L C H
N O N E
Euphie Feb 2
They say that the eyes are the window
to our souls.

If that were true, then you would
still be laying next to me at my
bedside.
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