I wouldn’t mind being my couch.
All green, lumpy, soft, warm,
And you could drown in me if you felt like it.
I have little lines all over me,
They are essential,
Like the hair on a girl or fingers on an artist.
People have tried to cover me,
To change me,
From green to blue
Or from blue to white.
But they always fail
Because I will remain green.
I’m what helps people relax
And not worry
Or stand around,
Unsure of what to do next.
A place where people can crowd together,
Not caring about personal space,
But it’s okay
Because these stains are memories
Memories of a little girl
Who tried to cover up spilled nail polish
With a cheap cotton blanket.
Tears clouded her eyes
Making them shine
Like soft diamonds made of water.
She couldn’t bear to let her mom see,
Couldn’t bear to see anger or disappointment in
But she couldn’t bear to let her mother find out by herself.
So she told her,
Her voice thick while she chokes on tears.
Her mom doesn’t get angry
She looks sad.
As if she is sad that her daughter was scared of her.
She got up and embraced her daughter.
Told her that she could tell her anything,
That it’s just a couch.
And kissed her on the forehead.
Every time I look at that smeared nail polish,
Or that cheap blanket,
I can’t help but smile
From the WIC anthology The Moon Towards Me (2012)
Photo courtesy of Vavva_92