Let us do what socks do, by Sandwich Massacre Subscribe to rss feed for Sandwich Massacre

my sock slept peacefully in the grasp of his socks. big and
black and warm, wrapped and folded and mingled into a chaos
that merged their fibers into a single color, a single mass.
there is nothing more beautiful than the little magic tucked
away in the darkness of a drawer. a hidden place untouched
by life's tug-of-war. 

i get lost in a big bed, and cold beyond anything i
encompass. i roll into a fragrant treasure in the middle of
this nowhere. the scent of dancing and hair and him give my
scent a partner again. i close my eyes and ignore the empty
space. i forget the air and the infinite universe my hands
continue to find themselves. i'll stop searching with my
hands, scents have no fingertips. 

i feel like magic to know that i am his home. 3000 miles
away, but i carry his home within me. his magnet. the place
he always wants to return to. the place he sacrifices for to
keep cozy and perfect for his nourishment and survival. i am
more infinite this way. 

i dance in the bed we've made, a roll and twist into the
perfect slumber. driven by the perfect knowledge that i am
his home. that my life and his life have met like magic in
the darkness of a drawer, a place where we tumble and fold
and mingle and merge our fibers into our own single color. i
sleep and dream in the warmth of this rapture and wrapping
where he'll find me perfect in the nest he's made for me to
rest and wake. he'll find me on this every day after in this
place that we have made. a home we take. a home we keep.

2005
Posted: 2005-11-06 16:46:58 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.