That Pillow...if it could speak,
would have all too much to say.

It would drown your very ears
with stories of fears.

It would count, for you, the lost numbers
of tears that have been shed,
but never wiped away,
just dried up slowly, instead.

That Pillow...if it could speak,
what would it say?
How many dreams and secrets
would it betray?

Ahh, but that tender Pillow of mine,
it would never cross that line,

For it is always there...eager to bend...
for me,
and always to lend...
itself, as my friend, you see.

That Pillow...it serves me quite well,
and though there is always much to tell...
I know it will never sell...
me...out like that.

Discarding judgement, it takes it all in...
both virtue and sin.

Soft confidante as well as confessor,
putting up with the aggressor.

Never questioning a word or thought,
or the torment of inquiries sought.

Oh...that sweet Pillow; it knows me too well,
And a true friend indeed;
veiling inner stirrings and secret stories...
and it shall never tell.



-by Mercurychyld
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