A Cold Bed

Bag of boiling waterstill leaves cold corners 

beneath toes, frost bitten, 

sliding softly beneath sheets 

and socks.

Skin burns beneath the bottle 

2 legs across,

30 centimetres wide,

it’s warmth has tried

to cure the bitterness 

that sweeps across this cosy mess

vast and void with room

for 2. Though neglects to fill the 

emptiness 

Don’t think that you’re superfluous 

I’ve kept a place reserved

for you. 

For constant warmth from head to toe and hands that seek my shivering bones. 

A place where I don’t need these clothes and where I’ll choose to share this note.