A poem about grief and tragedy.
Black , shiny cotton thread soft.
My head is on the surface, face down on this fluffy pillow.
Now I wanna bury my face deep deep deep within and never come out.
It’s comfortable out there. It’s steady.
No pain, no agony, no violence , no despair.
Just velvety nothingness. A stillness.
The pillow is shaped like a cloud.
It will soak my tears. As it’s too fluffy. Fluffy enough for my tears.
It smells … Fragrance…. Like a t shirt in a second hand wooden cupboard. Old but washed clean.
This reminds me of some close yet fast moving distant comfort. Home.
Yes. Please let me be buried inside this pillow. World please have mercy.
Don’t tap my shoulders, don’t call me out. I am not ready for you.
I wanna stay here. For a long long time.
I wanna breathe deep in this fragrance.
I wanna sleep , cry and just be inside this pillow. I don’t want to move.
Sooth me . Dark fluffy pillow. Soothe me , comfort me. I am yours.
And do let some soft Leonard Cohen in faintly from a black small speaker.