My old salted pillow

I remember the pillow 

that I would cry on every night

It immitated a soft glow

and I would squeeze it so tight 

to try to ease

the knife in my stomach

with it came a soft wheeze

for every blade that struck

I would clutch it closely

and a salt tear would fall

as i wished to be free

inbetween us stood a wall

I wanted to reach

and hug it once more

even if it would bring back the memories

that I abhor

it captured all the dreams

that murdered me completly

because I didn't want to feel myself breathe

I want to run my fingers

along its soft cloth

to smell the salty texture

just for a small pause

let me feel the pleasure

of resting my head

against the worn polyester

let me remember all the memories

that I so gratefully dread