This is what it feels like to be furniture.
Doors open and close.
I am here,
Silent, eyes open, unmoving
Only the steady rise and fall
Separates me
From the inanimate crap cluttering our house.

This is what it feels like to be furniture.
You see the back of my head
I try to keep myself steady
I hear you turn around
And walk away.
You have better things to do
Than ask why I’m not speaking to you again.

This is what it feels like to be furniture. *
You mention absently that
We need new couches,
You don’t want to continue trying,
And that the toilet needs to be fixed.
I can’t be bothered to fight with you,
After all, the couch isn't objecting to you throwing it away.