I like burying myself in blankets. Naked under layer and layers of blankets. I lie there and pretend that someone has their arms wrapped around me, has big hands on my ribs. Strong, gentle hands. The fact is, I don't give a damn about sex. i just want to feel safe. A boy with me under all those blankets. He'd smell like home. Home is his smell all around me and his hands on my ribs, buried with me under blankets. We'd listen to the bed creek when one of us shifted a little, hear the ceiling settle. The heater roaring in the basement. Every night I'd have my boy, buried with me under blankets. We'd tell each other stories off of the top of our heads, and repeat our favorite words:
"spatula!"
"acne!"
"symphony!"
"bubble!"
And while we're buried under blankets, the light would creep through the shades. We'd be forced to rise and make due with the day, until we were buried together under blankets again.