Our bed was just a bed,
you see?
It wasn’t illuminated by dancing
flames and it was never
my life raft.
How bravely,
how cruelly I’d hop
out of it after waiting
for the excruciatingly long
return of dawn.
Our sleep,
never rhythmic or soft.
Your touch,
like sticky-fingered honey,
impossible to rub off
You were my gravity—
dragging me
back to the coldest
version of this heart.

Our bed—
the antithesis of one’s retreat.
The smell of sex,
so far from sweet. Sweat
and musk caked into
the wrinkles of sheets and skin.
Behind your eyes,
just a wall. A wall
that I’d smack my head upon,
keeping my own eyes
To the world,
you are radiant.
To me,
many shades of gray.
Saving this would
only make me shiver,
You see?


Ashley Warren

About Ashley Warren

You can find Ashley Warren's work in The Full Moon Poetry Society (a poetry blog), which includes an award for 2nd best poem of 2011. She also a poem published in Minneapolis’ Southwest Journal and have a short story published in The Cynic (an online literary magazine). She lives in San Francisco.
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