13: an ode

What would you say if you could talk?
What would your voice sound like? Deep and sultry? Or soothing, almost kind.
Never first to be called but always down to cuddle at eleven o’clock
And almost considered out of sight, of out mind.
My Pillows.

Three on the chair and nine on my bed, and nearly none are for show.
You’ve only met half as many people as me, 
But you’ve heard about twice as many as I know. 
I don’t need to mention the messes you’ve had to see.

My Pillows.
You’ve acted as bricks for blanket forts that were quite large, 
But usually are reposed to greet me with ease.
Once you were apart of a battery charge,
A pillow fight that ended up being just a tease.

When I needed someone to catch my tears,
Or to stifle my moans,
You were there, proudly wearing my makeup in smears.
Three on the chair and nine on my bed; Never fully alone.
My Pillows.