the bed like cotton on my back,
but like a rock to my head-
the smile so daunting to my heart,
but fun in my head.
the feeling of adulthood
yet, so fake and minute in my head.
the game of life played in a bed
but game of love played in my head
comfort found in words unspoken
words unspoken left me un-broken
in my head i wait and wander
if these events are worth the ponder
so i go about my daily tasks
and nobody cares to ask
about the 13th in february
left in- - a cinerary - -
like the others he took and thieved
I guess- didn’t get into my head,
But what’s left is the empty, dirty, disheveled Bed.