a white leather sofa (poetry)
Return to a white leather sofa (poetry)
he walks away sits down on the [sofa] the [white] [leather] [sofa] I never wanted to buy I go outside and I don’t slam the [door] I stand in the [yard] under the [sycamore] the [symbol] of [life] he was a [senior] and I was a [sophomore] he didn’t know that I was alive he had long [blond] [hair] and [eyes] like [James Spader] and I loved how he walked with his [head] held up high easy and cool like a [lord] or a [serpent] the [sycamore] [bark] is mottled and thin and I loved how his [lips] were always parted as if he’d forgotten the [question] he asked I go back inside and I close the [door] softly I give him a [smile] like a [girl] or a [servant] come here he says and leans back on the [sofa] the [white] [leather] [sofa] I never wanted the [sycamore] looks like it’s ready to die and I go to him now as if I were alive. | Existing:
Non-Existing: |