I build a road
And stacked up
Some stone.
The fireplace
Is ready for the
Both us, won't
You join me?
I have the softest
Of covers, and
The most comfortable
Pillows, love.

Baby, it's cold outside,
Won't you keep me warm?
I have been waiting too long.

My pillows
echo soft and lingering memories
faintly entangled in your scent.  
You are woven into my linens.
Left as a reminder of time,
in Heaven spent.
From this waking slumber
never shall I shake.
Intoxicating inhalations,
of our first impressions,
shy confessions,
laughs and tousled inhibitions
all left in between these sheets
. . .do keep me captivated
every morning that I wake.

A day with you is saying good morning to the sun with cups of coffee. Long walks, but longer talks, and feeling tingly. Pillow fights on white sheets in underwear with yellow smileys; bacon and eggs and pancakes and sausage, and peanuts with no grease.

A day with you is seeing the dusk with rainbows. Chocolate ice creams and cones and mangoes; KitKats and Cadburys and Oreos, with Lego House and marshmallows. Or maybe cookies and cola and not milk, while I hold your hand of silk. Or maybe some singing or dancing or playing the guitar. Or painting a portrait of the moon and stars.

A day with you is a night in July and rainy. And kissing you with some hugging too and three spoonfuls of honey. Then I'll cradle you, with lights out, as you doze sweetly beside me. I'll hum you to sleep with tender pattings on the hips, and watch your eyelids fall gently.

watching the trains go by
pause with a cold shallow breath
smoke another cigarette
you remember last year

****** up
bottles clanking together
plastic shiny smiles
full of ****
******* liars
fists are so heavy

tear down the curtains
punch holes in the wall
break a window and
fall on your face
sleep on the ruins
burn holes
torn out pages
black spots of your memory

better keep straight
money in the bank
hot food
new shoes
and a bed with two pillows

I trip but not in the physical sense
and my mind stutters phrases of unthinkable
from pillows and water
to smiles and ice cream
which is the best

Rereading conversations
Remembering the past
You love him
You hate to say it
I'm your metaphorical God
You're depressed
You want to go home
You want to leave the town
You already left
You have to come back
Life is rough
Living as a misfit
No one will understand
Understand your depression
Unless they have felt it
Sadness for no reason
Feeling like a freak
Like a misfit
Because of the way you feel
Yet you have to appologize
For the things they did
They need to apologize to you
For being an ignerent ****
Expecting you to be happy
When all you want to do is cry
You thought you left this town
Tear soaked bed
Makeup smuged pillows
Terrible memories
Terrible mistakes
Terrible guilt
You thought you left it all behind
But you didn't
You have to be the stronger person
Even though you're
Breaking at the seams
You aren't apologizing anymore
For their ignorance
They won't understand
Just wanting to sleep
Cry
Cut
Tear the skin off of their body
The awkwardness
The innocent watching
You hate yourself
And your feelings
You want to go back to where you came from
Leave this town
Leave it a mystery if your coming back
Ever
Or never
You're still stuck
With the tear soaked bed
And makeup smuged pillows
You don't know if you can handle it
I'm here
I'm going to help you
Help you through those terrible nights
That, that I promise you will happen

White cotton kisses
I pretend you occupy the space of this  pillow
I remember your navy sheets
I think they kindly absorbed the blood
it was there, somewhere.
beating or gliding within walls of muscle.
This type of loving has become liquid and electrical.
It is certainly electrical.
spiky pains edging fingertips
Strands of copper threaded into the grooves of your fingerprints
It has a real colour. I don't know what that is.
It's weight fits inside your body.
It is manufactured.
Maybe the ***** triggered it.
Or the serotonin shots when I see your face.
All I have with me now is bone dry fabric and wadding