Bed’s Monologue

A poem from the view of a bed. Inspired from finals week.

Bed’s Monologue

 

He stands there, eyes dipping like icicles

and hollow as a dark cave. He

knows where tranquility and dreams

lie. It is in front of him, covered

in cotton sheets and marshmallow

looking clouds that cradle his head

like a newborn looking for comfort.

The pages of the book and this wifi

though keep him occupied, dying

of stress while I sit here, just

waiting for him to say that he loves me.

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