Your Bed is quite possibly the single most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. It has that the distinct ability of being able to swallow a human like one of those fictional venus fly traps.

On more than one occasion I can be standing in your room, and I'll hear its siren's call, beckoning me to crash inside of it, bury my head in the pillow and drift off.

There is nothing special about it really. I used to live in the same dorm and my bed was not nearly as comfortable. You claim its the egg crate along with the mattress pad that makes it so damned comfortable, but I think it's something deeper. It goes beyond the pile of soft hooded sweatshirts that constantly resides on it. It goes beyond your body pillow. It goes beyond your roommate being the single most quiet person in the world. It goes beyond those amazingly comforting comforters. I don't even think it's something in the sheets.

Its you. Its your smell. Its knowing that every day after you have left Spanish that I can hold your hand on the way back to your dorm and eventually crash in that comfortable monstrosity. I can stare at the Salvador Dali poster at my feet, try not to lean against that tapestry you have to my left, and if I get bored debate with myself whether or not Incubus is a good band to have hanging above me.

Most of all however, it's knowing that in roughly forty-five minutes you will be waking me up. You always find a creative way to do it. You never just say my name. You touch my arm, or scratch my palm. Today you tugged on my finger.

I get to open my eyes, and see you. Even if you aren't in the bed with me. That is what makes that bed so freakin comfortable.