Pillow Talks | Spoken Poetry


Oh this? This is my new bed it holds no memories or sentimental value. Why? You ask; Because no childhood friend watched thrillers with me on it. And no brother, nor sister held me when I was crying my eyes out on it. And no mother tucked me in when I was pretending to be sick to miss school. And no boy changed the aroma of these sheets. They’re brand new. Oh, and those pillows don’t have dry tears on them or Any sign of last night’s makeup on them. Well, my old duvet cover had colorful elegant flowers on it. I guess they haven’t bloomed on this one yet, it’s not the season anyway And what I’ve noticed is my new detergent smells like insomnia nights and peculiar dreams about people I used to remember, but I don’t anymore. And now I position myself in the center. I don’t make space for anyone to join in. Well, I guess, I can’t afford to change those sheets again. This is my new bed, I’ll be seeing a lot of it.

4 thoughts on “Pillow Talks | Spoken Poetry

  1. Nice crisp photography and what about all those times you were pretending to be sick?

  2. "This is my new bed, I hope to be seeing a lot of it." I loved that line and it was the perfect way to end this beautiful piece. I loved the energy you put into this. Well done.

  3. Αγγιξες τόσο την χάρτινη καρδιά που ίσως έπεσε ένα κόκκινο δάκρυ πάνω στο νέο μαξιλάρι…χδ🖤

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