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.cotton and cold.you've hidden a history packed tight in a brown box marked f r a g i l e and handle with care it's stored in the closet.cotton and cold.
next to throwaway clothing where it will grow stale with the air
and the television buzzzes a crude lullabye where our words used to hang in the night the emptiness (((echoes))) in the mountains and valleys in the caves of the sheets where we lie
so what does it mean when i wake up each morning with nothing but pillows to hold? the space where our bodies fit so perfectly is replaced with cotton & cold
i know my mou
by ~be-this-sunset
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