Compact and Extend
#1 of Poems
My parts inside still compact and extend:
one at night, and the other with the day.
Beneath your weight I continue to bend,
though with far fewer pieces since this home has changed.
If I asked, would you tell me where he's gone?
If I asked, could you tell me why and where?
Please don't think that I mind our nights alone,
but I grew so fond of having him here.
I compact and extend, my head all full of fluff,
and I can't understand why we've been left all alone.
Though, to be fair, drumming the wall was often rough,
and my parts are relieved to have the extra weight go...
...most nights that is: those when it's only you and I.
The others bring less comfort, and make my pieces burn,
as I compact and extend too fast too many times.
Such nights are nothing new; they just burned much less before.
Wood to wood, fabric and metal in between,
I bear alone, extended through the day,
awaiting to compact with the dark: your queen
here to use, but never appreciate.
But I could never say this, even had I the means;
they are the last words you ought to hear.
No matter with whom or how many you share my sheets,
I am the one soaking up your tears.