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Darkness and the Peppermint Couch
I am sitting alone in darkness
The walls of pitch black surround me like a predator about to attack its prey
Where unfortunately I am the victim
Its suffocating me
With its sickeningly blackened hands that slither their way up my neck to stifle my breathing
The faint smell of peppermint comes to me
It wraps its arms around me, to which I am taken to our spot
Where we had gentle talks
Engulfing me in its warm ambience
The smell is soothing, almost refreshing
Swiftly, the clouds of abyss black collide together and disappear
I can no longer feared the looming hand of darkness
We sit upon the couch, that had a distinct burnt sienna color to it.
The couch was soft and spongy
It was old and had a mountain of dust on it
It was old and whenever someone sat on it, piles of dust would fly off it
But I loved it
Each morning we would sit in the exact same spots as the day before
We never faced each other when we talked, just stared into the darkness
That couch still to this day holds memories of the talks we shared,
The stories you would tell,
The laughs we collectively had
Yes, I miss that,
I miss that couch
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My teacher gave me an assignment, I had to write about a special place of mine. I didn't really think of one that fast, but then I knew what to write about. This poem isn't just about a couch, its about the talks I shared with my grandpa. As a young child, I would have a sleepover at my grandparents house, and my grandpa would wake up super early. So when I heard his footsteps I would wake up. We would do all sorts of things from watching tv to me watching him do his taxes. But after that, we would go and sit on the couch and just talk. And that's what my piece is about.