This pillow isn't you.
It doesn't hug back
Not when I want it to
It just sits there, uncaring
It doesn't leave me be
Not when I want it to
It turns hard making its presence known
When we first meet it's cold and hard
I have to bury it in my own warmth
For it to bend to me and let me in
Then after that it turns too hot
With passion or rage I don't know
But it is ruined by my warmth
So I flip it over, again and again
Giving it a third and fourth chance
To just lay with me, mildly
But you're right all through the night
Whether I flip you around or just let you lay under me
So when you're not here to share this bed I'm reminded
This pillow isn't you.
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