I am addicted

addicted to my bed

addicted to the comfort of mind

removed and everything opposite

of the cold harsh world

we have to wear shoes to walk in.

No words could accurately describe the way I feel

walking down the street everyday as a woman 

hearing the objectifying whistles of men,

seeing the thisrty look in their eyes

as if I was just a hole

waiting to be pierced by what makes them men. 

Little do they know their eyes and whistles pierced me

in the one place they did not think about,

my brain.

No words could accurately describe how I felt about you

The idea of you swimming around in my mind 

strangling any wandering thought that told me you would leave

and watering the thoughts that told me you were 

the conventional

stereotypical

"one"

until I had wild, overgrown forests of you and me

together, forever. 

No words could accurately describe the pain of you leaving.

I am addicted,

yes addicted

to my bed.