The Sheet

You pull the sheet across your body

Its substance of silk kiss your skin

Its presence reassuring, its touch so soft

It warms even your hands and feet

But what’s this?

You finger at a loose thread

And watch it dwindle as you tug at it

Traveling down the edge of the sheet until it reaches a corner

The edge of it becomes frayed

A desire arouses within you

You yearn for its continued travel down the sheet

Despite its predicted path

And as you flick your wrist once more

Another side becomes tattered

It’s frayed, but the silk still warms you

You let the desire take control

And as suppression becomes derisory

Your head becomes distant and absent-minded

Flick

Flick

Flick

Flick

Flick

Flick

Flick

Flick

Flick

Your wrist tugs for the last time

The last of the sheet has unraveled

You’re suddenly aware of the bareness of your skin

The coldness of the dark

Your exposure

Your puniness becomes inescapable

You cry out for the sheet

For the feeling of the silk enveloping your body

Its warmth

The reassurance

But all you can grasp is the thread

And as it sits in your hand you watch it lead down to the darkness below you