Between Two Arms

There I sat, between two arms. Not your arms. No, between the arms of your sofa. A soft, tan combination of wood and fabric that sucked me in. Built to be used. Built to be loved. From the first time I sat on it, to the last time I slept on it, it gave me something. It gave me you. Now, I just have memories of you.

I will never sit on that sofa again. But, I will remember how happy, sad, open, and nervous it made me. I laughed on that sofa. I loved on that sofa. I asked questions on that sofa. I learned on that sofa. Few days I could not wait to get off of that sofa. Most days, I longed to sit there and never leave.

I’ve tried so hard to let go of what that sofa gave me. Forget what I thought was to come. Letting go is always easier said then done. Because, then you find yourself reverting back to something you can not fight or force away. Almost like it is haunting you. You find yourself wishing to rewind time. Rewind back to a moment shared. A moment made into a memory between two arms on a sofa.

Someone new lives there now. Someone new who will never know.


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