The Pillow

by chaotarroo

The cold is sheltered
and the water is tepid,
under the witness of cupid
we had our baths, chorused,
and in exotic robes, we
spoke of the icy treks we walked today
and other itineraries that made us gay.
Weariness paused our stubbles,
and you exited my pupils,
to whisper the candle good night.
As you return to cuddle under my arms,
in euphoria I muttered,
this is the best day I ever had,
but wait,
where is that extra pillow I covet?
In warmth and comfort a man,
or woman(but God forbid),
would weep for, I tossed
and turned and couldn’t sleep.
There you are, hugging my
arm like a baby,
if only I had an extra pillow,
that would make me much more happy.
In heavenly comfort,
my skin is fraught,
breathing becomes a hassle and
my tongue feels absent.
Anything would do!
I screamed to myself.
A pineapple, a boulder, or
even a woman’s shoulder,
just something to keep my left hand smothered!
Like the second hand of a clock,
the torment doesn’t stop.
My eyes wide open,
and though your grip on me had softened,
leaving for room service
wouldn’t be permissible,
long as your snoring
remains audible.
Sleep, sleep, SLEEP!
I told myself.
But I can’t
without the pillow,
it’s making my life feel hollow!
The beauty of the moon,
is wrecked
by the evil pillow that looms
beyond my hand.
And I thought to myself,
what a horrible