In Praise of Beastless Beds

Once we are set free

from this quarantine,

I will search beneath your bed to ensure there are no more monsters—

monsters bearing the odor of heartbreak; monsters bearing smiles whose teeth are chipped tombstones; monsters stealing wonder and leaving only wounds.

Once we are set free

from this quarantine,

bring me a necklace of moons, and I’ll play you a song on my jukebox heart.

Meet me at the intersection of Grace and Good Fortune.

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