beds raze when a monster calls my name without making a sound, i remember how to crawl and hide beside my mattress. not beneath it. all i can see are thin legs bathed in black and the frightened face of a friend who's sacrificed herself to give me a fighting chance at not being found. before the candle of the day burned down to nothing, she sank into the robed river that rocked me to sleep on so many anxious adolescent nights. i gathered all my pictures from a square of carpet between the dresser and the bed's bottom slat. a gift for her to sift through in search of who i used to be. i slid two pillows across the headboard until they were near enough to be of some use. she ignored them. pulled my face to the soft space where her neck and shoulder met. though we didn't speak, i sensed the same thought burning a hole in my brain was heating hers: if_only we had more time. 240527 what's it to you? who go blather from