My bed has asked about you. It stares at your frown, it revisits your smile, and play dough. it loves your high and often craves your whole.

When your died skin flickers on the sheets, it beams with joy and holds onto your voice. end of the month, it hates the sheets changing, but is more looking forward to your lavender scent again. My bed asked why your moans sounded like a deepen garden rose...

My bed keeps asking, I avoid sleep to stop dreaming about you.

- Sleepy GRAY