My Bed

i don't know. i don't know! i don't know! each day it just recedes, like a lapsed wave on the beach slowly being pulled in by the tide. i'm not sure when it started, maybe two weeks ago? i just remember waking up one morning but not feeling her. as she rose from the horizon, and her golden touch grazed my skin, and i felt nothing. and instead of smiling, like i usually do, i did nothing. i just watched. i stared as her touch slowly trailed up from my fingers, to my arm, all the way up until she blinded my brown eyes. and now this has become a ritual for me. every morning i wake up before she does just so i can watch her blanket me with her numbing light. i don't know. i guess i do it because i'm hoping one day, one day soon, i will feel her again. i guess i just miss her warmth. no i know she isn't alive, but in a way she is. she was alive to me, because she made me feel alive. but without her touch, i just feel, i don't know, hollow. yes, it's true. I did lie before. i do feel something. well, recently the only thing i can feel is my bed. i know it sounds weird, but he continues to be the only place where i can feel, i don't know. the only place i can feel something. i feel a warmth. and he calls me, day by day, night by night. it's the reason i no longer leave my room. i have tried to leave, but i barely made it out the door before my body broke out in a sweat and the tremors clawed their way up my spine. i missed my bed too much. i missed him. and when i lay with him, i can feel his linen corners wrap around my wrists and ankles; and i can feel his woolen comforters weight deeply on my chest. it's true. i do feel trapped, but i feel comforted by his weight. it's how he loves me. i guess i lay with him out of fear. i am afraid, but in a world where you feel nothing you learn to cherish fear. it's the only thing i feel. i know. i know that. i know. i am in love with my bed.