The Black Sofa

It was hot and the AC was barely working, but the weather here was nice.
It was a little snug but we fit.
Nothing happened between us but a hug.

I only slept for an hour before the sun came up.
But it was one great hour.
Deep, peaceful sleep.
Is it possible to enjoy sleeping?
I had a smile on my face while I was asleep.
I wish I could sleep like this every day.
He would pat my head and kiss my hand before we slept on the small black couch.

The black sofa story has ended.
It ended along with my feeling of safety.
So did the memory of deep sleep in the arms of a real man.
The hug on the black sofa is the standard by which I measure all other hugs.

But he gave away the black sofa.
Someone else now has my sweet memories.
It’s possible to fake a kiss, a marriage, or some words,
But it’s impossible to fake a hug.

I’ll have a new room in a couple of months.
“A black sofa would look nice in that corner,” mama said with a smile on her face.

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