Perfect

Behind that mask is beauty unimaginable.

Under that dress is grey shorts and knee-high socks.

Holes in the socks and holes between the sheets.

Laying in patterns which are 'round and 'round.

Under the mass forest of cotton and linen.

That bassinet swallows us whole.

Both fall into that hole, unraveling at the hem.

As the sunlight creeps in through the caves that bury us both,

we run deeper into pillowcases--

saving ourselves from another lonely hour away.