“O, who hath done this deed?”
“Nobody, I myself. Farewell./Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell” ~ Othello V.ii
*
The day my dad built my new bed, I cried for hours.
At last, a frame that will lift me up,
Not force me down.
At last, a frame that was fit for purpose.
No more hiding from the monster that lived underneath,
overhead and
in-between my sheets.
Somewhere to lie in without being lied to.
(It’s just a bed, but it’s a safe place to rest my head.)
Somewhere to peacefully retire, not hastily retreat.
(It’s just a bed, but it’s without him, so it’s without sin.)
There used to be so much silence after all the violence
“And yet, she must die.”
You could use the very knife my life rested on to
Cut the tension in the room.
But now, Sweet Desdemona!
Now your rest is due.
He took your every breath away but
His chaos could not consume
Your famous last words.
He cannot reach you in your eternal sleep.
For months, I have thought you lucky, and envied your fate.
But now, at long last, I have found comfort in my own bed frame.
“Keep one eye open and your mouth ******* shut. I’m going to stab you in your sleep”
