AMANDA CORBIN

bedbloat

each time she cried, her pillow grew more bloated. the way her dissatisfaction seeped into the soft down left her tossing and turning in her sleep, the soft lumps pressing various spots along her back. but like a festering mire blight, the bed, too, swelled on the day [something happened]. even the distended bed posts scratched her ceiling corners. at first, she feared the mass, trying to suffocate each heartbreak with a held breath. but once the dam broke, she gave in, spending her time wrapped away, enveloped inside the fatty fabric, speculating on fairytales. the princess and the pea got her thinking–why, she thought, why is suffering proof of the innocent, why cant the witch be the one to drown? there came a point where she couldn’t move from the plush prison: could no longer exit her own bedroom, enter a hallway, or leave her home. soon, the desire dissipated all together. there she remained in a fortress of fluff, completely immobilized by the growth of her debts, residing in the comfort of the devil she knew.

Amanda Nicole Corbin has had her short form poetry and prose published in a variety of magazines and journals including Thrice Fiction, Nano Fiction, the Notre Dame Review, and more. She currently lives in Columbus, Ohio and spends her time writing, drawing, and playing with her dolls.