naked mattress

naked mattress the naked mattress seemed more abandoned than on nights gone by when european percale sheets lifted like a kite from the corners as though they had somewhere to go and struggled passionately to get there. the sagging mattress appeared cold— now that she looked at it from the way he had always seen it— bare and abused by bodies that left tears and sweat. as she lay crying, face buried in her hands, her tear-stained lips kissed the only flesh she knew. her heart abandoned just like the barren mattress, she was suddenly aware of the putrid smell lingering from more nights than she cared to know and more men than she dared remember. she saw no form in the wrinkled sheets and the corners that had betrayed her —corners that once defined the pattern— now laid limp on the dusty hardwood floor like the man she had exhausted with her passion. on his back he seemed desolate with no blanket to warm his outstretched body and no sheets to protect his misplaced dignity. she cried, wondering who he was and why he stayed when he could have abandoned her in the night and left her life more stained than the naked mattress. tolbert