The sun rises and we are wrenched away from each other. With long, flowing arms, you beckon me back to you. I return your longing. I could spend forever peacefully floating with you. You make all of my wildest dreams come true. When I am with you, I am home. But your enemy brutally takes me away without care for our conversation. He threatens me with consequence if I return to you without permission. We are regimented in our time together, and it is never enough for me.
In the afternoon, I see you again. Joy overcomes me. I fall back into your lover’s embrace, your soft body touching mine intimately. Your smooth hands lull me and erase the troubles of the day. With you, all the pain and suffering, all the laughter and happiness wash away into nothingness.
After night has fallen and the midnight bell tolls, I may return to you. It no longer feels like a choice. You become my jailer, forcing me to spend long hours with you. Being in your arms feels like tightening arms on a straight-jacket. You scare me. Sometimes I wonder if you will ever let go. When we are together, I am not to be with anyone else. Just you and I, and sometimes the strange, blurred figures and shapes that visit me. If I struggle free, it is only until you pull me back under. So drowsy and sluggish, it is an easy battle for you. You control my time until I’m strong enough to fight you off. When I am, I spring away as quickly as possible, not to see you again, if I’m lucky, until the sun reaches its peak.
I sigh, looking at my watch and thinking, Oh no, it’s time for bed.
Hopefully you liked my clever little ode to my bed. Sorry for the weird mannerisms; I’m reading Wuthering Heights right now.
Would this be accurate for your ode to your bed? Let me know!
My bed and I have a love/hate relationship. I am a horrible sleeper. I stay up late at night, hate waking up in the morning, and am tempted into napping in the afternoon.