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
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.