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Between sheets lost to the world, burning,
I lay down, frantic with overflowing passion.
My stifled laughter, wrapped in them,
My naked breasts, sheltered by them.
On the Tower of Pisa, in dreams I rested,
St. Petersburg, in my mind was drawn,
Nights in Paris, in my favourite corner,
But still in the early mornings, the cushion stresses me.
Oh, sweet cushion that bends my back,
Silent witness to my sleepless nights.
Your uncomfortable presence, a constant reminder,
Of dreams that slip away, fleeting like the wind.
But who can fight fate,
When the heart beats with such inanity?
Though your presence disturbs me and squeezes me,
In your arms I take refuge, till the dawn.
Quite a reflective piece. A cushion that is both an irreplaceable object of discomfort and witness to dreams that slip away. I think most people may relate to this poem—we have such cushions that capture our vulnerabilities and turmoil. Nicely done. Thank you for posting your poem in the Scholar N Scribe community. !PIZZA 🙂
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@kemmyb(1/5) tipped @yolmare
Beautiful verses of solitude and longing
Thank you
A poem of loneliness... oh, but I love my pillows! 😅
what a sweet verse...
Loneliness is a very sincere companion