morning bed

i rose to the morning with little concern for the earth. still it spun, water continued to leak. there were even birds, perched on a twig-thin tree. were they singing ? my palms cupped my ears, there was nothing i wanted to hear. all i longed for was to remain hidden under a fort of fabric. sinking deeper into it’s appetite for my despair. for minutes i shifted my limbs around; in this crumpled state of turmoil, brewing and glowing in it’s filth.

then, i heaved my body off and flagged my sheets into a sounding poof! flopping into a puddle of folds and creases; i tucked away the corners of it’s floral pattern – as if demanding a part of me to remain unseen; till bedtime.

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