Wounded Sheets

I burrow into the dark
in a nest for my thoughts
of guilty pleasures
memories of wounded sheets
and pillows on the floor

I will wait for you there
patient as a nursing mother
who knows the ebb and flow
of fullness, the pull of need
and unconditional love

As I hide from a world on fire and
hands seeking to grasp and rend
there is solace in knowing
that your hand pulls the thread
that could join our desires