Bed
Plump down on the bed,
My head, heavier than before,
Follows my body,
Contently onto the bed.
My arms spread like a crucifix,
A groan escapes my lungs,
the blood-red sheets,
crushed on my bed.
A final smile and I sit up,
Norah Jones sings of new York City,
She does it so beautifully,
on my bed.
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