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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.
there was no poem neath my pillow

no poem on my tongue, none from eye envisionaries, no dew gift from my grassy emissaries, parting residue of an unknowable finger touch

nothing stirring, the mother muses mushing their shushing noises,
only breathy quietude, an airy surround sound tissue,
the cadence of intermingled hearts, the mother and the child

two awakenings, one instantaneous, the other restless unhurried slow, but within an impatience to intersect,
the overlap is love stars crossing,
impatience weaponized to make
momma aware her companions refreshed status,
a needy for love’s suckling,
embrace of fresh baked smiles from hot heartedly hearth furnaces

thus a-born a new poem, a welcomed well coming, in words,
the alliance of alliterated words from the interlacing of the mother’s chest heaving and the sniffling joy of a five year old boy reimagining the dreams that crossed from mother to son, and back again, requiring composition and joint authorship of them

the only and only true authentic authorship,
mother and child, their owned unique
duality of singularity
Last night was first time In while that I managed to sleep all night before going
to bed I'd sprayed my pillow with my wife's favourite perfume

It felt as If she was still with me Estee ladder youth dew she loved that
Perfume every Christmas that's all she asked a nice gift set

I guess when I run out I shall buy some more then to sleep at night I'll go with perfume filling the air sweet thoughts of my darling as I fall gently to sleep
Helens favourite perfume Estee Laurder youth drew
I spray my pillow at night
Egeria Litha Jan 29
Sun rays poking from the windows
I can't get my head off this pillow
stale air in this room and I'm holding my breath
anxiety attempts to control what occurs next
then a seizure erupts in my head

Hits the glitch
in my automatic mask
I show for the world
and all those thoughts
I can't hold in my brain space
Nik Bland Jan 31
Does moonlight impede you
Do you get the full view
Of the
Sun that lies within

It’s so hard to read you
You see, in the read-though
Of the
Book the dialect changed

Your shoulders are heavy
And you never feel your ready
Slow and steady

This isn’t a race
So why is your heart still racing
Beats seemingly replacing

Time is a construct
Look towards the home front
It is
Always somewhere near

The night brings such sorrow
You feel no hope for tomorrow
It is
Storm clouds in your head

Raindrops on your pillow
Yuki Jan 13
How do I forgive my eyes
for their weakness
turned to tears
in the middle of my sleep?
For all the times
I’ve been awake at night
apologizing to the pillow
for never being able
to keep it dry.
Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
pillow behind the back
back hurts
my heart is beating
from coming from fog

pillow behind the back
how the hammer knocks
pillow behind the eyes
how time is noisy

only noise around
noise noise noise noise
and nothing more

around only harp
sharp jet sounds
how my last year's cry

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