Lonely cannot begin to describe the basement dwellers. They have hearts so big they love to love, but they don’t know how to love themselves. A heart much too big for a shell so thin.
Perhaps if one remains still enough, they will dissolve into their mattress, blend into their sheets and rest with the pillows that held all of their dreams. From there they would remain, calling out to any empty soul who needs a safer place.
“Come rest, my love.”
It calls out to you
“Tired child, lie down with me. Those beasts out there won’t find you here.”
There, the world would remain timeless, a hope for those with desperate need. A need which can be cured by the corners of duvets that dry up tears, or the pillows who listen to their fears and remind them how to dream. There, the sheets would cling like a lover who would never let you leave, a warmth forgotten, a haven for the broken.