I am missing you on the bed you slept on, where I have become a sheepherder and live without food or water. All sheep stroll around and sometimes run across on the deep blue sky with shimmer eyes, blink, or fall into endless dark. Get tightened.
I am missing you on the bed you slept on, the bed is infected with the smelling of marshmallows and the taste of cotton. White. Sweet. White. Soft.
Tiny tinny feather-like translucent voice though my cochlea. Itchy. Indistinct breeze follows new growth grass that is the boundary to the sea, the creamy wave drops into the teacup you gave me.
I am missing you on the bed and reading books you left on the pillow, Otome no Minato, Maria Watches Over Us, A little Princess, fragrance from maiden seems like sweetbrier petals juicing on a page.
I am missing you in the sun-warmed quilt on the bed you slept on. Sister, neighbor, classmate, sweetheart from childhood, sharing the same soda to save two bucks, little lazybones.
Are you looking in the mirror cheerfully? Or Smiling to you in honesty like a beauty?
Hairs twine on fingers, would I treat them gingerly? Si-s-ter, why your hair is fascinating me?
I am waiting on the bed you sleeping on and calling my name in subtle repetitions until I begin forgetting you and falling asleep.
Keep eyes closed.