I came to know my bed through the body of a boy
If you had asked me what my bed felt like
in the months before he touched it
I would have said
clean
comfortable
warm
But the night he slipped his delicate body
into the crevice of my covers
I had never felt so foreign
in my own territory
My sheets became soiled
with the imprint of his limbs
his shoulders creating caverns
to place pieces of my heart in
Pressing my body further into the folds
the burden of his bones
buried my sins with it
The morning that he left
I lay in his absence
his cookie cutter frame
emptied of his freckled skin
Familiar with my bed now more than ever
I sink into the hollows he left
sheltered by the tenderness
of promises long forgotten
If you had asked me what my bed felt like
in the months after he touched it
I would have said
home.
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