crumble away

one of those poems that hits you as you're waking up, so you have to fumble about to get to your computer because there's so much sleep in your eyes.

I do not believe
that it is necessary I leave our bed, today.
I will simply lie here,
and allow the house to crumble about me.

The wallpaper can peel, for all I care,
it’s edges curling up,
and turning brown, all yellowed by the flames of time.
The roses will fade
from red to a sickly nude,
as they watch me slumber away.

The light bulbs will burn out,
without me ever noticing.
A sizzle and pop!
each time a filament bursts,
it’s heat building up too greatly
as smoke fills the glass
turning it a smokey stain of a house fire.

The paint will slowly chip,
and develop large, unsightly oil spots
as the plasterboard beneath it
molds
and withers
and crumbles,
and I will not mind, one bit.

The carpet will wear down to our cherry floors.
The upholstery will mold and spot
and become a nesting area
for small creatures,
and all of our books
will be consumed, without malice,
by silverfish,

And I will continue to lie,
here in my own downy nest,
my own cradle of sleep,
nestled in your arms, and against your chest,
and the whole world can fall apart,
really,
for all I care,
for as long as I am here with you,
I will be safe,
I will not crumble,
I will not fade away.