The tempest of my thoughts, contained in a simple page.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

To the Gray/Blue/White Comforter,

You don't judge me for piling things on your left side. You know I don't sleep there anyway. You welcome stacks of laundry, my withering prom corsage, lonely school papers, the satchel I used a week ago.

But best of all, your plush comfort holds laughing friends and crying siblings. It acts as an impenetrable monster shield at 2:00am and knows exactly where to fold when I arrange you haphazardly every morning at 6:38.

And of course, you hold me. When I have no one else, you let me curl up in your corner and bunch up your folds in my arms and sniffle myself to sleep. You let me huddle beneath your safety as long as I need to on the mornings I just can't face life quite yet, and you always make room for my cat to burrow under and join in.
You're always warm, you're always soft, and you're always there.

I appreciate it.

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