I suddenly realize-
through a sigh and saddened eyes
looking on at the disheveled sheets
pillows on the carpet, cushions dented in,
I'm a lot like my favorite couch.
I have an exquisite and deep exterior
Yet my interior is comfy and soft
But with every mistake, my body pays a cost
And with every new memory, and old one is lost.
And yet- I wonder if...
this reminiscent piece of furniture,
can feel my warmth and weakest moments
Just like the sunken in cushions with every thrust
I wonder if it too, can smell the tears and bread crumbs
And yet- Sometimes my couch is like a lover
Holding me in its blankets on the coldest nights
Just as he took me in with yearning arms and eyes
So safe and consuming, I sink into its pillows
Same as I'd fall into their enthralling embrace.
And yet- Sometimes my couch, is just a couch
A bed, where I roll out of and onto my knees
Wondering, was he really here? was it a dream?
Looking on its soft surface, its hard to breathe.
And after so many times of thinking, feeling, sleeping
in its upholstered embrace, I've learned to hope and wait,
To be patient, easy and forgiving, like me couch.
And yet. And yet.
In my heart I rest here forever
sleeping with roses in my hands
sleeping with roses in my hands
sleeping with roses in my hands
waiting with roses in my hands
Waiting for you.
