Shared

I.
When I was a baby,
my Mother bought me a blanket;
a blue blanket.
I held it close.
It was my own.
It matured just as I did.
It suffered ripped stitches,
and stained corners.
Once it became unbearable,
I always bought a new one.
I have gone through four in my lifetime;
zero of which had been shared,
until I met you.

II.
Jelly beans are my favorite.
I have possession issues.
I shared them with you
the first time you came over.

III.
You have seen me in my most vulnerable state.
Wearing nothing but sweatpants
and a shy smile.
I had crust in my eyes
and lint in my hair.
“You’re too good to see me like this”
I giggled from under our blanket;
my blue blanket.
“You look fine!” you said
as you leaned in for a kissed
with a jelly bean
on your tongue.

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