His old chair was the only entity she had left from him

His love for her was diminished.

With broken dreams and deteriorated love she sat everyday

For he had found a new chair

With more support

With more beauty

With more life.

His old chair wrapped its broken arms around her wretched body

As he once did, before a pristine chair took its place.

His old chair had been his most valued possession

And she often wished he still loved her as much as he once loved that chair.

Presently, the comfort of trusting his old chair

Not to break under the weight of her sorrows

Was far more desirable than the thought of

 Him sitting in a new chair.

His old chair loved her;

It had no shame of their shared characteristics

Their dilapidated arms and legs

Their undermined foundation

Their unsubstantial looks.

These were the genuine rationales

As to why he had sought a superior chair.

Whenever she would carry on her daily duties

She would long to go home and rest her tired soul in his old chair.

She found comfort in it

Resting her entire being in it after a grueling day

Yearning for the familiarity of it

Telling her to rest her weary weight

Holding her with all its strength.

A long day at work

A flood of rain and despair.

She was driving

Swimming through the sorrows the clouds had dropped onto the earth

Longing

Yearning

Needing

To be in the serendipity of his old chair.

The Chair

Ann Gale – Rachel

She arrived at her dwelling

She shifted through the tears of the sky to her doorstep

She forced the key into the rugged lock

And threw her belongings on the couch.

She looked at his old chair before she sat in it

Not knowing that this would be their last encounter.

She bent her weak knees

She strained her aching back

She braced her body for its comfort and love

She mentally thanked his old chair for its tenderness

But all she got in return

Was the cracking sound of trust

Love

And faith

Breaking.

The weight of her heavy soul had been too much to bear

His old chair had been there for too long.

It was weak

It was aching

It did not brace itself for the familiar weight of her sorrows.

It fell to the cold ground

Taking her with it

Victimizing her by his unofficial crime of withdrawal.

His old chair lay on the floor

Its remains attempting to envelope her numb body one last time

But it was the eleventh hour

And her body lay there on the ground

Crying

Weeping

Aching

Longing again for the comfort of his old, broken chair.