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