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Bed Expectations

 I made the bed with knuckles cramped
and stomach churning from caffeine
removed all sheets and started clean
lifted linens, tightened corners
my frail knees buckled, sore shins screamed.

Misted perfume over cotton
-flattened creases, airing pillows
waving from my inflamed shoulders,
fluffing, fussing, folding fabric-
until the bed was neat.

And when my husband peaked to see
what, today, came over me, he
cried ‘far too often I have seen
this bed made with you in between
these sheets and nowhere else it seems!’

Storming out I wished he knew
how much I painfully pushed through
to overcome a seeming need-
that I be someone more than this
or for this bed be free from me.
Written by ursa
Published | Edited 23rd Jan 2022
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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