a little story about a little story that happened or never happened

He exploded like a bomb long forgotten after a war in a field, a battle field perhaps, on my beautiful mattress folded, carefully folded  because had it not been so, it made me feel lonely, too much space for one single person

he exploded like a bomb on my carefully placed pillows, the monochrome one, yellow, the flowery one, the one with the repetitive pattern. He exploded and when I complaint he shoved one up my mouth, the yellow one. And when i complaint he shoved up another one, the flowery one, in my little bird, bird as in little bird, as in my case, long forgotten, after a war in a battle field. And when I complaint he shoved up one more, the one with the repetitive pattern.

Now, with the yellow pillow in my mouth and the flowery one and the one with the repetitive pattern in my bird, I exploded and cried and laughed like a bomb long forgotten on a carefully folded mattress, folded, because had in not been so, it made me feel lonely too much space for one single person.