Mattress

Every morning, she awakens.

The corners of her mouth

Tied up like a bow.

That smile, painted

Shades of flawless

That haven’t been identified yet. 

With each rain speckled

Streetlight blinking to life

I will wait for night to descend, heavy

Over her tired eyes

Weighing them down

Till she falls back into my embraces.

One day, my four posts will

Rattle, shake,

And crumble.

My blankets

Will wear

Too thin.

- Devin D’Amato -