Pillow
Heather. Age 16. Benson, North Carolina
Originally published in July 2009
                      Come here, my child.
Everyone else has
turned their back on you.
Not I.
I refuse to leave.
I'll be here soaking up
your every tear.
I know of you wonders.
I have heard
your every secret.

Rest, my child.
I will take the weight
from the crosses you bear.
My relaxing, circadian waves
teleport you
Relieve you.
Baffle you.
I long for your presence daily.
But you ignore me
for sixteen hour straight.
Of course I don't mind.
Why would I?
I love to listen to you.
Even if it's
the sound of your deep breaths.

Let go, my child.
I do not judge.
Your stabbed back will heal
while I support.
I don't care if I'm scarlet too.
Or wet.
Or warm.
I only care for you.
Just use my flip side.
Drink me in.
For I will nourish you.
So come here, my child.
Everyone else has.
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