Tuesday, December 17th, 2013

A bed. It could mean so much.  It's where we sleep. Where we dream. Where we muffle our screams in the darkness. Where we wipe away the tears we don't want no one to know about. It's where we take the person we love and make love to them. Until the person leaves. And we fill the bed with someone else. That person who knows someone else was in that bed. Slept in those sheets. Someone else was in that heart. "I love you" someone else has heard that coming from that mouth. We fill the holes the ones they first loved left unfilled. We warm the beds of what was once a lasting love. We clean the stains of regrets on the sheets. That's all we do. Because someday they'll realize the bed is not filled, not warm, not clean. We are nothing but another space, another cold, another stain. We are nothing. We are the unwanted ones. We are the ones who are only wanted on beds that were once filled and need warmth until they find someone who fits their holes.