Bedside

So many thoughts wrung out on the edge of a bed. A soft perch wallowed down like a worry stone. So many heavy blows to the heart weighed out on the edge of comfort. Eyes rubbed down to pinkness by the haunt of a bad dream on the edge of a gentle slope of sleep. A mountain of downy sheets hollowed out with worry and strife.  Or billowed in with the breath of promise and inflated with the glimmer of novelty. The edge of a mattress seen as the portal to a life not yet embarked upon, steps untread in a story waiting to fall from whispering lips. Or the back door to a spent youth framed with a halo of intentions. So much feather and cloth that makes up an artery of a life. One vein throbbing with past and future in every stolid beat.