Sort of like my bed.
My sleeping place for the past six months; an air mattress.
Not just any air mattress, I tell enquiring minds.
A luxury queen air mattress, the best 70 bucks can buy.
Perfectly comfortable, but a little too giving when I recline too far.
I must always remind her of her place; she may be queen, but I am king.
And so I push her back into the corner, against the wall when she juts out defiantly.
Sheathed in white, from my colorless sheets and pillowcases to the simple comforter.
A throwback to college, when my life was planned out a year in advance.
A mingling of the old and the new; it symbolizes
Who knows where we will go?
Me and my blow up bed.