Not Completely Gone

I sit where you sat,
waiting for the next time that you come back.
Stuck between the dip in the couch
resting comfortably.
I was soft when you kissed me,
stretching out, watching the rest of the movie
with you.

The print of your thigh imprinted.
Wherever we go, we come back here after,
relive the same memory
the couch holding our shape
until we’re back.
Perfume and cologne rubs and wears off.
This cushion like a spring,
every single time.

I sit where you sat,
between conversations,
between commercials,
sinking deeper
resting beside you.
I’ve discovered why love makes you lazy.
It’s not about proof or finding out
you lived out a piece of a dream.

You just haven’t grabbed the vacuum yet.
A piece of me that reminds you,
until you do.