Postcard from Our Couch

Wish you were here.

These cushions still cling fast to the impression of your vast space.

The indentation still holds true to your form, a mere memory remains.

Springs beneath the seats still squeak noisily as years of use strain against immeasurable weights.

Crumbs from countless meals lightly dust the green material, brushed aside and ignored amidst all the feelings of joy and bliss.

Wish you were here.

The soft fabric envelops me as I curl into myself today, holding fast to lost promises and empty thought we shared here.

The musty musk of storage and use permeate in an aura which surrounds this place.

This space restores Samson's hair to me, shining curls clearly apparent under the illusion of this place.

The face of all you've become haunts me elsewhere, but here, on this couch, it stings sharper before vanishing suddenly in an attempt to placate broken hopes.

Wish you were here,

To see this, to feel this.

Wish you were here on our couch.

A/N: I wrote this poem primarily for myself, so if any statements seem unclear or confusing, please ask in a review just what I meant. I've poured a great amount of effort into each sentence, and with a certain image in my mind I realize that those who don't know what exactly I'm talking about might not understand completely. I'm hoping to receive feedback on this one in particular due to my desire to perfect it. Thank you in advance. :-)

Bonus points to anyone who understands the biblical allusion. Anyone want to take any guesses as to what I meant there? This line especially should be clear, and I'd love help making it so.