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Bed sheets

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It was a cold Tuesday morning,
And the sun was nowhere to be seen.
Plus the light in my heart was somehow broken
And the knot in my throat was as big as the absent star.

I curled up in my sheets
More or less like a five year old.
I felt childish, but sincere
And I told you I didn’t want to go.

You pressed me against your chest and said
“You know I’ll always love you, my dear”
As you asked me about the friend I had brought on Friday
And the one I never mentioned again.

Then you said
“It’s soon to be your birthday,
Today I’ll buy you a present”
And the more she tried to portrayed kindness
The angrier I got.

I tried to figure out what was upsetting me the most:
The fact that she thought that something material
Could make me forget my sadness
Or that somebody might have told my momma
“Your daughter likes other girls.”



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