This BedA Poem by TentenI’m fond of this bed Curled above a squeaky mattress Sometimes I steal the sheets Curled, my back to the wall Eyes to you Sometimes my hands move to touch Flesh to flesh, I still fear This pillow is mine but yours A faded gray savana is mine but yours I've been here so long There will be a ghost of me in these walls Lingering in a spot like home With a squeaky bed I’m fond of
© 2008 TentenAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on October 23, 2008 AuthorTentenAlamosa, COAboutI know me well enough to know that I don't who I truly am and that I deceive myself into believing i have found my way in life. i well away of the fact that i am a contradiction of actions and words a.. more..Writing
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