When I first moved in  I admit it was quite exciting; the way id dance from room to room.
I was young and naïve, believing that I finally was needed. Is that the word, needed, I dont know.
Anyway, it didn't last long. I do remember it was a Thursday and I had found my way into the living room. I stood by the tv when she walked in.
She wore a thin, see through top and shiny metallic leggings and he laid her on top of this fur carpet and pet her til her makeup was smeared.
Right in front of me. Like, like I didn't matter at all. Like I wasn't even there.
It broke my heart.
She wasn't the first but, at least they got past the living room. I tell myself that makes it better.
I guess, I'm just numb to it now. Every now and then on holidays he will pull me to the couch with him and let me hold his beer while he watches football but I think that's only because there's people there. You know, gotta keep appearances.
I find myself wondering sometimes if it's bc I'm too small. Too skinny. I got knobby knees. I got a plain face. I got a few scuffs and scars. Something, something about me is wrong. I mean, there has be something that he finds off putting to not...not want me anymore...
Why do I stay? Bc I love him. He needs me. One day he'll see. He'll see I'm not just an accent table.