My Pillow
.
.
I lay here in the darkness
On my comfortable bed
And my imagination wanders
Ideas pouring from my head
.
I'm on my back, and next to me
Is a soft warm someone sweet
I don't know who they are
But they're there and that's a treat
.
Is it the imaginary, black-haired girl
That always made my day?
Or is it the friend, turned lover, for whom
I've always felt so gay?
.
Boy or girl, it doesn't matter
I really don't care
Their sex is irrelevant
Just as long as they're there
.
Their head is pressed into my chest
And it makes me tingle
For this is what I've always wanted
Gone are the days of single
.
I run my hand through their hair
Black or brown I am not sure
But either one, it still does not
Detract from their allure
.
They plant a wet kiss on my neck
And it makes me tremble
These feelings that course through me now
I would not dissemble
.
They whisper in my ear, then
And say sweet nothings to me
And I respond by telling them
That they fill me with glee
.
What they say next is out of sync
With the conversation thus
Because the voice whispering to me is
The lead singer of Blink-182
.
The imagination that held together
My camaraderie
Like mortar and brick, it falls apart
And leaves me solitary
.
The wet kiss upon my throat
That oh-so-loving peck
Was nothing but a pool of tears
Between collar and neck
.
The person lying next to me
The head upon my chest
Is not a lover either way
It's a pillow from my nest
.
And now I lay here once again
Without even my delusion
And I know I'm pitiful
And worthy of derision
.
But this is how I get my kicks
This is my only pleasure
Because I'll never know love, or its like
And this is at least a measure
Of what I wish to feel
And how I want to be
My pillow is my only love
I guess that's fine with me.