"bedspread" poems
Superhuman in this skin
Red-lipped smile sweetly
(but beware teeth beneath)
I'm Sweet Siren Song
And I won't be long left
within this mediocre maniverse
Pretty porn-portrait perfect
(But there's no staples lacerating this muffin top)
Withstand this cosmetic culture curse
Bedspread silky sodden sheets
Writhing within nightmare glare
silicon butterfly spiked beauty ages anyway
Go away,
I'm finished.
I MEAN IT!
Fucknuts
(I guess Fucknuts isn't an advertiseable commodity. What's with the cheap advertising links in my poetry!)
bedspread.
****
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
Despite the frustration flaunting his bedspread
I despise the energy it takes to proof bread
“an hour at least”
No
I’m quite nocturnal
I stay awake with the moon, owls, and turtles
Who play cards in their shells
Subconscious betting
As we ante up because
Every son is setting, out
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
Could the sun be
just
a hole up there—
that if I could leap
would enter that breach of light
Someone!
Throw me a line!
Give me a reason
There’s never enough
in this life of breathing!
Someone!
Explain why dreams roll a soul
toward the cliffs of day
Wakes to ache
then stuffs its mouth
with necessary same
Inhale—
button shirt—brush hair
Exhale—
necessary glance in the mirror
(yes, still there)
A lifetime!
in a shallow instant’s stiff clear water
(Yeah— still there)
in endless caverns of tired eyes
above mouth still trying
to say SOMETHING!
from ever smaller eternities
in the glass-flat empty....
Please! Someone explain!
this draw of breath
one forcing itself upon another's
life
of beating —
Violence in my chest!
Why hearts don’t sleep—
and I wind up watching
again and again—till
I am the ******
...Morning lies
in the mists of a humid *****
who moans and sweats
and boils her hips—
and I wind up watching!?
“Will someone please…!"
...and I wind up watching
bedspread, bed sore, death bed
till you’re breathing easy
when she sits and picks
her collapsed bouffant
damning the makeup
that got crushed in the sheets
…Morning
Lies--
with no expectancy
both tired of knowing...
*...The Devil lost his balance
in my presence one night*
...tired of knowing—
THE WILL!
THAT WILL!
...walk away
or continue to play
I could open this screen!
watch the world STEP BACK!
SLAP FLAT!
as trees and dwellings flush like quail
to prop their tottering panic
against the blue—
You—assume composure...
compose assumptions
Await my next—
Move like a spy
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
A bedspread on which bold, red and blue
esoteric, Tantric, motifs embrace
copulating triangles, the ideogram of cosmos
batik printed in vermilion on it's center
is spread, right there on the play-field of cupid
where the confluence is to happen,
a transmitting point of fecund energies to infinity,
a point on the spring board to transcendence
Beloved, here in the holy fire, receive in ecstasy,
the sacrificial offering I bring from the
incessant Ganga of my lineage,
Shakti and Shiva come in for divine union,
together here on the mark beyond time and space.
right in the center is "THE BINDU" the mystical point
both culmination and beginning of the 'beyond'
passage from here to timelessness of cosmos, we invoke.
Here Shakti is holy fire leaping up for Shiva's offering,
sublimated they fuse, may that be the seed for karmas lumenant.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
Can I tell you how seriously I take this poem!
_____
Could the sun be
just
a hole up there—
that if I could leap
would enter that breach of light
Someone!
Throw me a line!
Give me a reason
There’s never enough
in this life of breathing!
Someone!
Explain why dreams roll a soul
toward the cliffs of day
Wakes to ache
then stuffs its mouth
with necessary same
Inhale—
button shirt—brush hair
Exhale—
necessary glance in the mirror
(yes, still there)
A lifetime!
in a shallow instant’s stiff clear water
(Yeah— still there)
in endless caverns of tired eyes
above mouth still trying
to say SOMETHING!
from ever smaller eternities
in the glass-flat empty....
Please! Someone explain!
this draw of breath
one forcing itself upon another's
life
of beating —
Violence in my chest!
Why hearts don’t sleep—
and I wind up watching
again and again—till
I am the ******
...Morning lies
in the mists of a humid *****
who moans and sweats
and boils her hips—
and I wind up watching!?
“Will someone please…!"
...and I wind up watching
bedspread, bed sore, death bed
till you’re breathing easy
when she sits and picks
her collapsed bouffant
damning the makeup
that got crushed in the sheets
…Morning
Lies--
with no expectancy
both tired of knowing...
*...The Devil lost his balance
in my presence one night*
...tired of knowing—
THE WILL!
THAT WILL!
...walk away
or continue to play
I could open this screen!
watch the world STEP BACK!
SLAP FLAT!
as trees and dwellings flush like quail
to prop their tottering panic
against the blue—
You—assume composure...
compose assumptions
Await my next—
Move like a spy
1990
Take careful note:
**Why I don’t play chess or any other game
for that matter.**
“...and when you're really out there
the windows all have opened onto nothing...
Death having long since-- left the scene.
When you get really out there
it's all--
and nothing…”
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 7:57 PM UTC
The words are my paint
My brain is the canvas
If you searched inside
You wouldn't be able to handle it
Dark subject matter
Gore and lust
Feelings of anxiety, Scared to trust
Hurt before, hurt me no more
My brain is riddled with you
I can't betray
Never untrue
It's a blast from the past
When I see your ***
It reminds me I'm sexually charged
I can't control the demons I pull
When I see your body unclothed
Anger,retreat and the feeling of defeat
When I know I'm not alone
Wasting away , wasting a day
Talking to you on the phone
You asked me my size and to my surprise
You said I was full of ****
I told you its true
and I promised it too
and 3 days later I was filling up you.
Dress to impress me darling
My impressions are the world
Sprawled out on my bedspread
Letting your dress be unfurled
Honey, I've seen you naked
But I've never seen you like this before
An after effect , I must be direct
Cut to the chase, your no disgrace
Your moister then a florida day
I've never seen you act this way
Hedonistic views,blaming it on you
Cut to the chase, your no disgrace
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 2:15 AM UTC
the body falls soft
curves collapsing on the edge of
bedspread tangled in cliched prison
escape ropes
tied loose like old tendon,
we are all but used.
I feel the force of Fibonacci
spiraling between ribs
and pelvis, golden ratios
divining skin,
1 to 1.616
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Do you know
how your body is fed?
Do you truly see
how we make the bread?
Do you wonder the ingredients
concealed like a bedspread?
Well, I heard a fact
That's got me seeing red
About artificial flavors
that 'bout made me drop dead.
Now, it may not be visible
You might see it in a museum
In a petri dish, in a *****
It's called
CASTOREUM.
It's not very pretty,
You wouldn't want to see 'em
Big business would tell you
If they were to take the veritaserum.
I apologize for the nastiness
but someone must be told
Its not on the nutrition label
Though it should be written in BOLD
I'm not sure how to phrase it
But it comes from the ***** hole
Of a dead ****** then
into your coffee, cold.
Once you realize
What's truly inside,
Coffee creamer goes from
Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.
Now, I have been scarred
I don't want it cold, I don't want it fried.
I don't want it at all, I'm mortified
That they would put in the food I tried.
So fear the vanilla
And eat the chicken
And never forget that ******
was kickin'
Before it was deprived of its ***** matter
and stay away from things you don't know what they stick in.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
last night i had a nightmare
your car backed up to and through my front door
dumping broken computers and monitors and machines in my yard
dumping out your trash at my mother's doorstep
like you did to me
(you tell them i left, but we both know your cold eyes pushed me)
last night i had a nightmare
i walked into my darkened room and a man fraught with danger and uneasiness left his breakfast dishes on my bedspread.
my mother did not hear my screams of concern, as to why, why a man of such disgust had chosen my bedroom to have his breakfast eggs.
the ketchup and stray pepper he left on my pillow was a violation like hands between clenched thighs
when i woke up this morning,
i wanted to cry.
my (enter degree here) doctor slipped me slight pills of green and brown, guaranteed to rid me of these visions, these haunts that grip me like dramas played out in technicolor across my eyelids.
now i take two under the tongue, caught between a lover's fingertips.
i wake up having lost and died only moments before.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
We add speeches. Then nod our heads. We swim as if shipwrecked, but I wish we could be forgotten. I never have had you as much as I'd like, but I dream about your hands touching my face. We are like fish in prohibition, caged harmonies unbalanced by fake friends. I know your lullaby, I can't sleep it's ringing in my ears. Trust me and let us tie our legs together. You filled in my lines and have left me for deaf. I can't hear the words you've learned to lie together, you are intensifying and need attention. I can give you your spirit animal and sanctuary. Put your skin against my soft lips, your head pressed against my mouth, can you make a seashell out of your tongue, or wrestle an argument to the ground with the touch of your palm.
There aren't enough points for me to keep playing these games that I already beat you at. If I was half the dancer you keep telling me I am, then where do you keep your high heels, I've never seen you in high heels. Every time I see you push bangs from out of your face, or toss the strands from off your nape, I want to give you a crown that doesn't fear the pronouns that spells us two teas and our laptops sitting across from each other in the 1980s pour-over palace we remark on often. I collect stickers and old homework assignments. We both grew up with dolls, Playdoh, and Legos. You might only have one sister, but we both live in small houses filled with huge ideas. Homes of wit and sarcasm. I've cut ounces from your meat and I still can't sleep well.
I will steal your blanket, bedspread, and your pillows. Given the chance I will touch your ears, your face, and the lengths of your legs. But before we have our first to last kiss. Let me talk to Paul with this once in a lifetime opportunity. If he wants a life line he'll take this opportunity, and seemingly uncircumstantial; you recollect yourself in a Margherita and an advance that lands you to sway your ground.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC
the polished hand of admirers heralding a new poem
they have come so often to rub their eyes on your ink-stained page
leaving behind papercuts of emotion with which they grieve
for the words you spread on their sweaty palms
the polished hand of admirers...
wet with anticipation of the latest beachside laughing clown
he is a walking breathing cataclysm written for her comforts
written in adoration's delight and true loves of her tender hand
she lay in amongst your pages on the bedspread
like a spilled wine **** to the tongue of sensibility
like a spilled wine that intoxicates and leaves
watch her swaying hips fade away into darkness
she will bounce and glide on another man's stripper pole
if you fail to call her back...
the polished hand of admirers heralding your waking thought
muted cheers as your pen makes wicked strokes on empty page
like a dancing blade carving your wooden words
till they sing like beauties breath on cold still air
till she is your warmth wrapped so delicately in your twisted bedsheets
she mutters a cough as she puts flame to cigarette
and smiles at your attentions
she is a living poem
that you write ink and page
the polished hand of admirers will never see
how pure simple ***** girl is so intoxicating
how lush and enticing her gyrating beneath you really is
the polished hand of admirers like you go to bed and sleep
while your dreams are of her dancing swift and sweet
theirs are the dreams of pens cutting on page
like a dancing blade carving wooden words
© 2016 mark john junor all rights reserved
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
You always leave, a sweet taste on my teeth.
Kissing under moon beams, touching until our hearts gleam.
Silhouettes hold each other, as I try to find you in the wave of people you wish you were.
Sweet thing don't cry, skin is soft like cotton candy.
I'll never leave your side, your pain is mine.
Give me your love tonight.
When you go, your wide eyes as big as the ocean floor.
Just know, your love sticks like caramel apples on my lips.
Your love is so addicting but, so much sugar can make my heartache.
Sweet thing don't cry, I'll wipe those pity tears off your pretty eyes.
I'll never leave your side, your pain is mine.
Give me your love tonight.
Don't think, don't blink.
Just live.
Let your scent control my body.
Interlace our fingers on a strawberry bedspread.
I'll do whatever you want, I can show you what to do.
Wrap our legs around one another, feel the heat take over.
If only your love was real, if only your touch was made for me.
No sweet thing, you don't belong to me.
Only in my dreams.
And I'll never get to taste your candy on my teeth.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
See babygirl I come to free your soul from your body
Ease your mind, ease down your spine, and make it so ******
Undress you with my eyes, make love mentally, your body is an instrument, I play it like a symphany
Your heart beat fast, you get excited by my touch
Tryin' not to wake the neighbours, but you like it so much.
You can talk to me, tell me what you want.
Don't be scared, If it feel good, bite the pillow,pull the bedspread.
Can you put your legs behind your head, tell me can you take it
Tomorrow you'll be smilin to yourself & you going to still be aching.
Oh, Imma make it last, I promise I wont come quick, I Promise Im gonna do you right.
Cut off your phone & spend the night.
I let you get on top & let you feel like ya in control
Roleplay with you, be my stripper slide down the pole.
Kiss me from my head to toe, I'll tell you if it feels good
Got my nature hard as hell, now tell me if it feels good.
Now spin around & ride it from the back & stand up on your feet
Wrap my legs to keep you balanced, girl you got a real talent
The dirty'er I talk to you, the wetter that you get girl
A freak in the sheets but in the streets your a real good girl.
She likes for me to spank her & ask her who this is
Then she likes to throw it back & ask me how this feels.
Got a wet & gussy feel, I love it im going keep it real
Got me in the zone, extact like I pop the pill...
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 12:04 AM UTC
I was the canvas, as were you
One canvas to each other
and on the wall
with knees underneath
indecent exposure
naked mind of mine
Flushed out edges of this unique bedspread
a shower curtain used as a tablecloth
used as an ashtray
This was her only wedding dress
Wedding dress two dollars and seventeen cents
value market discount white sale
Found in the back when
suddenly everything was zebra stripes
and she was already ten minutes late
But what is time to a pack of teeth?
A high-ceiling filled with nostrils and bat claws
smouldering tar-stained enamel
fits nicely on the frayed corners
of her tablecloth underwear
and brushed away the ashes
leaving half-finished highways
and dark-stained alleys
and brooding courtships
She missed her basement apartment
and the way no one took her seriously
and the Grand Finale!
and riding high
and the blue ribbons
that sometimes came with last place
and windows and pillows
darkened sleep patterns with silver eyes
half-moon Iris
She isn’t home anymore
She left for a smoke
and the sidewalk took her
Michael Sinclaire/Mary Fahey. March 2013.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
They never mentioned
That the smell of aftershave
And toothpaste
Would be triggering.
Forgot to say I was destined
To be what twisted men crave -
My skinny waist,
His slithering.
Cannot sleep on a waterbed.
Fear that the waves will move
Unsteadily,
Irregularly.
Threw away purple bedspread.
Prayed its absence would improve
Sleeping,
Dreaming
I recognize his twins
At work, the store, and on the street.
Unable to breathe.
Petrifying.
Their crooked grins
Calloused hands, tight grips, yellow teeth
Calls me 'sweetie'
Triggering.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
Early morning sun was pouring in through their window
the warmth spreading over the beds
keeping the boys drowsy
downstairs the telephong rang
no-one answered it
he crawled out from under the heavy quilted bedspread
his brother had a bedspread with stars all over
celestial-something
too long a word for a five year old to bother with
he went to the phone
picked it up
listened
did what it the voice had told him
he went to the kitchen
got the bbq fluid and matches
poured it on his brothers bed
went down stairs
watched The Hair Bear Bunch while his brother burned
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 9:43 AM UTC
*it is three in the morning again
and i'm clinging to the t-shirt you gave me
i've whispered your name thirty seven times
to the dust on my nightstand
and the ink stains on my bedspread.
i imagine you cling to her warmth
you no longer have to lie next to
my stone cold, anemic body
i shiver at the thought
or maybe it is the fact
that i have not eaten much
this week and that the weather
is quite frigid for the month of march.
i pull your t-shirt closer to me, trying to
create some sort of heat source. i haven't
had the thermostat on since you left
because i do not have the money to pay
for such things.
the musky scent of you no
longer lingers off your t-shirt,
my old roommate threw it in the wash
so i threw her out.
I cling tighter to your t-shirt
causing my knuckles to crack
and the dry, crisp skin on my
hands to split open
the pain doesn't hurt anymore
i am used to this pain*
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
You've listened enough to know what to say
Your words cut deep as you fire your stored ammunition
I thought I was unveiling my soul and finally sharing myself completely
You were filing away the daggers you would later hurl back at me
Please don't leave me, it's you I beg
Your voice is rising, the insults growing more nasty with each octave
I search my mind for ways to fix all you say is wrong as my tears fall
You feel like you're settling, you can do so much better than me
I'm desperate to figure out what you need me to be and transform myself
Please don't leave me, I plead with you
You're making excuses, why do I make you hurt me like this, it's my fault
I try to remember what I said or did that pushed your buttons this time
You stand over me yelling for me to stop crying and hand me a napkin
It's then that I see the blood dripping on the bedspread and wipe my nose
Please don't leave me, my voice a whisper and you not even listening
You pack your bags to go as I beg and plead for you to stay
I know there's someone else and I say that it's ok, I'll say anything
You say you've had enough of me, crying, whining, making you feel bad
I say I'll change, I can't live without you, I'll love you better, I promise
Please don't leave me, I sob as the door closes in my face
You leave me with nothing but dried blood on the bedspread and tears
I wonder how I can go on without you and how I'll be able to breathe
Breathe, every breath so thick it sticks in my chest
I can't go on without you, no more breath, the razor slides across my skin
Please leave me, now it's my blood and my existence I'm speaking to
As the water in the tub turns from clear to crimson, it's his face I see
I start to sink down, it's then I begin to wonder if it was really all my fault
I hear his words, remember my tears, feel his fist, taste my blood
It wasn't me, I think this much too late and I need to stop it but I can't
Please don't leave me, it's me that I'm pleading with now, or maybe it's God
I realize as my conscious fades that I was not the problem
I deserved better and didn't see it, he cast such a large shadow I saw nothing but him
His words were the only truth I could hear, his actions all for my own good
How could love blind me so, how could I choose so quickly to go
Please don't leave me, my life is ebbing from my veins and my pleas are not answered, they are too late
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC
The suburban myths of childhood splayed on her naked chest
The stones of her mothers guilt closing her in
Her highschool cartoon bedspread beneath her back where I'm standing I don't know what she wants for me to listen or attack her jeans off to make her sing her song while I sweat on her she is shivering from heat and malfunctionous desires cracked fate
I am growing weak with boredoms temptations to have my way
My hands around her crumbling names
Swirling her skin to silence the pain
Creamy russian white and peach on display
She doesn't want to be a wife or gay but these things happen anyway
Another day in th oc
Little orange houses all in a row
Wishing with them we could play dominoes
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 2:49 PM UTC
I sit and hold my grandmother
in the shape of a small pillow on my bed -
they turned the dress she used to wear
into covers for all of my family's grief
and all of human need for things to stay close.
Her dress matches my bedsheets,
so it seems almost too fitting for her to be here.
I know grandmothers are grandmothers,
but they've always been people before that,
and maybe pillows afterwards.
I have a lot to do before I die,
and a lot more people will probably know me
and at least a few more people will probably love me,
and I don't wear a lot of dresses but,
I hope I will compliment the color scheme of your bedspread someday. I hope I will fit as easily into your life as a she fit into mine.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 4:33 AM UTC
In my head
I imagine the future to be
Lipsticks lined on a marble counter
According to color and mood
And clothes warm from the dryer
Because they didn’t cool in the car
And heartbeats under bedsheets
Imported from Milan
Where no clothes are scattered
Because we always remember
To hang them, properly,
(The way we’re supposed to).
And in my head
You wear a sweater
And I brew tea
In an electric kettle
On a spotless counter
In a kitchen scrubbed clean
Except on the stove
Where a smudge of chocolate
Here and there
Reminds us of
The night before
And you see me clearly
With curious eyes
And I see you exactly as I did
When we first met
On our third date
When you asked me
If I would, please, finish your plate.
And I imagine the future
And I adore the order
The absence of terrifying smudges
Of chaos
Against a marble façade of
Rosy (or pink. or sparkle.) perfection.
I crave the
Nights spread over soft, warm sheets
That I call mine
And warm lips that wake me
Only when the sun is just right
So I see the mischievous sparkle
In your half-closed eyes
Before you tickle me awake.
And in my head
I long for this,
For the perfection of a
Practiced hand.
I want to build myself
Like my mind builds worlds
With one smooth stroke at a time.
But I do admit
As I lay in jersey sheets
That I do quite like
The way the soft lamplight
Falls over my cluttered bedspread
And how my books are stacked
One
Two
Three
Against my bookshelf
Rather than inside it
(The way it’s supposed to.)
And I am fond
Of the sheer lavender cloth
Thrown haphazardly on the lampshade
And tied with a purple cord
From a graduation I can’t clearly remember
And have every desire to completely forget.
And I will rise
On an overcast day
To the cold lips of sea air
On sheets made from
Recycled materials
And I will stand on aching bones and trod
With a limp and a frown
To the stovetop kettle
And I will brew tea
To the gentle hum of the fridge
That was here when I moved in
And I will be wearing
A robe with no cord
And a face with no grin
But I will look to the sky
And see the sun promised in the
Nebulous lining of the silver clouds above
And I will smile and
Stretch my arms
And see myself clearly
With selfish, curious eyes
Amid the ***** pots and pans and I
Will find peace
In chaos.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
and maybe one day you and i will write our own realities
because we are boys whose dreams begin and end with cheeky grins
and dark eyes
and we are boys whose dreams begin and end with mousy brown hair
and hurt painted on forearms
and we are children and young and fierce
we are like the wind
and our love is everlasting
and maybe one day you and i will sign a petition to end the world
bloodstains and a lit match on our cheap hotel bedspread
tornado valley in our hearts and in our heads
i can’t promise you that this is real
but i can promise you that it can be
maybe one day you and i will cut out our hearts
and sew them to our sleeves
and let them bleed down and soak back into our sinew
but right now we are children,and
we are young and fierce,and
we will love young and fierce
(twelve years and thirteen bodies later--)
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
Snow-day 1959
Monday, 6:00AM clock radio trips,
And WTRY Sounds off one of those top 40 hits.
I half hear the School Closings for Monday 12/12,
Sitting straight up in bed.....Was that Greenport Elementary do tell?
"Here are those school closings one more time kiddies"........
"Hudson HS Closed".... Oh Please God let me hear my city.
"Greenport Elementary...Closed" my Hands Raised Victorious..
I think I can hear Mrs Healy's entire 3rd grade class celebrating gloriously!
Just as I settle in for an uninterrupted, relaxing snow day in my room,
I hear my Mom yell, "young man come get this dust mop and broom"
"Oh snap"! "what shall I do with these dearest mother" I inquire
"Clean that pig sty you call a bedroom or your gonna feel some hellfire!"
Seeing that there we were only 10 days before Christmas
I decide Its to my advantage not to put up a fuss.
So clean I do.....pulling dust bunnies and underwear from beneath my bed
A miss matched sock and a couple bugs that were dead.
And to my surprise I find that fake dog **** I been looking for,
Time for a stealth mission to Mom's special bedroom behind that closed door.
Doing my best army crawl I make my way to Ma's special place
And put that rubbery dog **** on that bedspread made of lace.
"Hey Ma come quick the dog crapped on your lacy bedspread"!
I don't think Ma hit one step climbing those stairs she was seein' red!
And with a gasp she began to rub that dogs nose in the mess,
I'm like Mom it's just fake dog **** relax and don't stress"!
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
We stood in the darkness, sharp air
piercing our windpipes, and rubbed
our hands together. Your eyes trailed across
the empty skyline, life fading from behind azure pupils.
I brushed back my hair, breathed – the white smoke
spiraling up 34th street and into our old bedroom,
over the paisley bedspread where she stretched.
Her gold curls laughed, bounced, and then stopped abruptly.
My hazel bewilderment met her manicured eyebrows.
I knew.
She realized.
So I moved toward her shadow, and she blinked. I reached
across her petite frame, and left the ring on our old
bedside table. But I took
the flashlight,
because I am still afraid of the dark.
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 3:38 PM UTC