This duvet cover has shawled me, witnessed sprawling me, formed the tented peak of late nights, swallowed my breath whole and returned it, gathered my warmth and let it go, caught my punches and muffled my screams, baked in California sun, strained London winds. It wicks my dreams off of me, buckles me in for sleep.
I took it to a park for a twilight picnic once. Brown stained a handful of the bottom left hand side that I didnāt see until I had already washed it multiple times and the drys had set the color.
I shared it as a handkerchief when I was saying goodbye to the love of my life, a handkerchief big enough to carry a small pond, still and warm.