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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This poem is about: 
Me

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