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Nameless pillow

Does my pillow know my name?

We sleep together every night,

Bond by the weight of dreams.

Bits of my skin

Adorn the entirety of its,

And fall back on me,

Like lost friends

Reconnecting over nostalgia.

Bearing the weight of thoughts and dreams.

Of restless movements.

Of heated nights.

Of angst.

And slowly but surely,

It must take shape around my head

Modifying its form.

One of us has to adjust;

I’m too bony, collimated,

And it’s too pliable.

It leaves its mark on me every morning.

Lines like rivers on my skin,

Recently barren of their life force:

The pillow's skin.

And then when comes time,

It can take no more,

It takes leave,

From the weight of my thoughts.

Fitting around the contours of my body,

The familiar security blanket.

The hug of my own warmth,

While another comes,

To extend its span.

White and soft,

And spongy,

And not me.

I wish I could morphs frames

Like the pillow,

Like water.

But I am carved in bone;

And the only thing that gives,

I fear,


What is to change,

Stays the same,

But the malleable pillow,

Doesn’t survive.

But hey,

Did I tell you my name!?

Wait. How was the pillow nameless?

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