Like our mother's lap
To hold and comfort us when we get tired or nurse our feelings with a slumber when we are hurt
A safe deposit like an offshore account
To hold the secrets
The feeling of our skins
Engulfed in our beddings
The little dirty secrets of our escapades
Holding our weight us we savour pleasure
But what if beds could talk?
And the curtains had a voice?
Would you trust them with your dirty secrets of the infidelities done behind closed doors?