If my bed spoke

 I was in a court accused, 

with my bed as a witness,

I’d have no defence.

In my bed I’ve cried out heartaches.

Prayed prayers of a child,  curses of teenage 

Lamentations of youth and joys of life.

If only my bed spoke.

Many dreams and longings I don’t want known.

It would mention characters  of my dream by name.

Perhaps draw the faces of those frequenting my dreamland.

It would clarify to many, clear many doubts I want to remain .

I would be defenseless.

Those nights I started a prayer and said Amen in the morning.

My bed would say of my sleepless nights hugging a pillow.
It would reveal my deepest longings, 

When two paths unfolded before me and I didn’t know which way.

Love letters read  and written under the blankets .

Hid under the pillow, whispered to the night only.

My bed would still say.

Lastly my bed would shock me.

It would say even what I don’t know.

That which happens when I’m dead asleep.

Oh if only my bed spoke.


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