My old salted pillow
I remember the pillow
that I would cry on every night
It immitated a soft glow
and I would squeeze it so tight
to try to ease
the knife in my stomach
with it came a soft wheeze
for every blade that struck
I would clutch it closely
and a salt tear would fall
as i wished to be free
inbetween us stood a wall
I wanted to reach
and hug it once more
even if it would bring back the memories
that I abhor
it captured all the dreams
that murdered me completly
because I didn't want to feel myself breathe
I want to run my fingers
along its soft cloth
to smell the salty texture
just for a small pause
let me feel the pleasure
of resting my head
against the worn polyester
let me remember all the memories
that I so gratefully dread