Have my bed


You were in my dream last night, with me in my childhood home – I seemed to have stored you now in that forever unobtainable space, which still haunts me all these years later.
You’re still taking silly photos on your phone and I am confused because I didn’t think that dead people can be photographed. But there you are and so I shrug it off and ask how you are sleeping. There are many rooms and in each room there are several beds, the room I share is with my old best friend who once gave me a black eye. You show me your room, there’s four beds lined up, and you cross your arms over your chest and lay yourself underneath the second last bed. See I wait until everyone else has gone to sleep and then I sneak in and go to bed. You’re forever quietly creeping around, not to disturb the others. I don’t want you to have to sleep like that, so we wander into another room – my last room in my childhood home with the grey carpets and the white walls that I ruined. You say these old houses with their high ceilings, it’s so large and it’s too cold. I do not want you to be cold – I say you can have my bed. Just have my bed. We hug and we hug.

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