It is a warm embrace in the mornings-
One that holds a person
like a mother might hold a child
in the nine comforting months
before entering the harshness
of Reality.

The bed is a home.
A misshapen cottage,
filled with cozy caresses,
and love, and care, and isolation.
a small house where two people
can be together.

It is a land of darkness.
A land of hiding.
A land where people can cry
and not be bothered
because outside,
Reality hurts.
And the tears shouldn’t be seen.

It is cold.
It is empty.
It is where they were before.
And where they aren’t now.
A reminder of the midnight kisses
when you might not want to be alone.

The bed is a place for remembering
and also forgetting.
Where one might grey,
and age,
and let go of hardships past
before they slip into oblivious sleep
Alone.