My best impression, speechless
As the bed lays unmade.
Untouched since I've been awake,
I left the blanket as it was.
Faking into body form,
Flaking, starting to conform,
But then it's the morning,
And as the shivering succession is yawning,
Too early for it to aspire,
It prepares itself to transform;
Another pattern ready to expire,
Another impression to admire.
If I leave it, walk away, and then quickly
Turn around, I can make out
Where my legs were falling,
Deep into the cast, my near-invisible indent,
The constricted contours' appearance inspired
By the skeleton-soul which was required.
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