You talked to me about devotion
When you were four hours and twenty minutes away
By car.
You ripped all your favorite expressions of love
From the books who were your friends
In a town where you had none
To show me how you spell devotion
With so many letters and gestures of love.
You talked to me about unending love
When you were a six hour bus ride and two one hour each car trips
Away from where I lived.
We held each other so tightly that I swear for a second
We were two people in one body
I would wait on the couch in a strangers home
Counting down the seconds till you held me again.
You talked to me about the life you wanted to build with me
And how you hated the distance
When we lived fifty miles away from each other.
You would whisper how much you missed me over the phone
And how the distance made you crazy.
But now that we share the same bed
You talk about waiting
You talk about a different future
I can see us drifting
Never before have we had so much distance between us
Than now when we are next to each other.

Her name is Hannah, like in the Bible.
Hannah, who could not find her place
Because her husband
Could not love her more
Than his *other wife,
Who bore him strong sons and daughters,
While Hannah only made him laugh.

Her name is Hannah, like in the Bible.
Hannah, who, heartbroken for a man she loved
The man she married,
Went to the temple to pray so fervently
The priest thought she was intoxicated
And attempted to make her leave.
When all she wanted was to break her body to give her husband a son.

Hannah, who gave her only son,
Back to God, because she was faithful
Always faithful
And as her name means, full of grace.
The bible is full of women
Who carry the legends of men on their back and at their *******
Mothers and wives who play supporting roles to heroes.

My name is Hannah, like in the Bible.
I have played second fiddle to other women
For the hearts of men who did not deserve me.
I have prayed fervently for a family that I have lost
My name means full of grace, but I am empty
And god merely laughs when you talk about me in his bible.

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.