Nothing knew our bodies
Quite like that tan, dingy couch

That tan, dingy couch
that clutched our jittery bones
as we sat a great distance apart
asking question
after question
building inventory
to later address as we ended
our first date.

That tan, dingy couch
That witnessed our interwoven bodies
as we heard one of my roommates
insert her key and press open the door
So I quickly rolled from your body
to the floor

That tan, dingy couch
That held you while you held me
And we drained hours of movies
That had to be rewound
and paused and started again
until we gave up on movies and
gave in to one another

That tan, dingy couch
That offered no support
as we struggled to connect
No matter how many words
We used to clarify

“I’ve never felt more misunderstood”
I remember screaming through tears
As you sat there, staring,
Looking at me like I was already gone.

We didn’t talk for three days.

I wrote you a letter.
You stopped by
and the first thing you did was unplug
Your ps3.

Then you sat down on that tan, dingy couch
And began to cry.
While I sat next to you
letter in hand
freshly aware
that the decision had been made
without me.