When I was a young girl falling asleep
I used to make sure my entire body was on the bed
As most children do
Not even one toe could hang over the edge
For fear it would be grabbed by
The Monster that lived under my bed

As I got older
I kept up with this silly fear
Even though I knew there was no room for Monsters under my bed
What with my shoes and other knick-knacks living there
Still, if I felt my arm flop over the side
I would hastily retrieve it
“Better safe than sorry” I rationalized irrationally

I got older still
And I started to share my bed
Suddenly the thought of something else
Holding me at night
Was not repulsive but welcome
I happily let my limbs find their ways around the bed
And explore new methods to hold my bedmate

But time moved on again
And my bed was empty again
I was lying in bed at night
Sprawled out, for I suddenly had so much room,
When my arm flopped over the side of the bed.

I was about to return it
Out of habit more than fear
When I thought
“What if the Monster under my bed
Only wished to grab me and pull me underneath the bed
Because the Monster had just lost its bedmate as well?”

So I left my arm flopped
And my hand vulnerable
For if there was a sad, lonely Monster under my bed
And I had replaced its bedmate with my shoes and knick-knacks
I wanted the Monster to at least have the option
Of holding my hand.