An excerpt from A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak. by Elizabeth Kemball

Your lips whisper into my folds,
garbled litanies, muffled screams,
when it’s cold
you give out tiny snorts,
calling for more air,
for warmth,
you stretch your hand
over the empty space,
but it’s just me, your sheets,
and your arm goes limp.

from A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak.

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