Sofa

I wonder if I left, would my absence mean anything to you

You who are absorbed in things that can live

Must overlook the greyness of me

My texture worn down

My substance abused.

I wonder if I would make a reliable sofa

Perhaps you could find comfort in me

Find warmth in my creases, my lumpy old cushions,

And love me despite all the stains and loose springs

I only want to show you how my flesh feels

When you and your aliveness come close

I sag

I’m sad

That I cannot support your warmth or your love

If I were brave

I would leave your living room

But I fear no one wants an old sofa.

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