Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
You said love should feel natural which was unfortunate because nature itself is mostly catastrophe with good lighting Outside March kept dissolving into ***** water The city wore its exhaustion openly like men smoking alone outside hospitals We lived above a laundromat all night the machines turned washing strangers through cycles of heat and surrender You slept badly Every dream returned you damaged Meanwhile I developed the talent of making coffee quietly which should qualify as a minor religion One morning you stood by the window wearing my sweater the large gray one with holes near the wrists You looked temporary like jazz or governments or those bookstores that survive three rent increases too long Down below someone screamed in Russian with astonishing commitment A taxi almost hit a cyclist The cyclist hit the taxi Spring continued without moral instruction You asked: “Do you think people ruin each other?” I wanted to answer carefully instead I said: “Only the honest ones.” For a while neither of us moved The kettle trembled softly on the stove like an old actor waiting backstage to die correctly
0
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 10:23 AM UTC
The Laundromat Beneath Us
You said love should feel natural which was unfortunate because nature itself is mostly catastrophe with good lighting Outside March kept dissolving into ***** water The city wore its exhaustion openly like men smoking alone outside hospitals We lived above a laundromat all night the machines turned washing strangers through cycles of heat and surrender You slept badly Every dream returned you damaged Meanwhile I developed the talent of making coffee quietly which should qualify as a minor religion One morning you stood by the window wearing my sweater the large gray one with holes near the wrists You looked temporary like jazz or governments or those bookstores that survive three rent increases too long Down below someone screamed in Russian with astonishing commitment A taxi almost hit a cyclist The cyclist hit the taxi Spring continued without moral instruction You asked: “Do you think people ruin each other?” I wanted to answer carefully instead I said: “Only the honest ones.” For a while neither of us moved The kettle trembled softly on the stove like an old actor waiting backstage to die correctly
Love becomes most visible in laundromats, kitchens, insomnia, and poorly timed honesty.
SandyNY
Written by
27/M/Shanghai / New York
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 10:23 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem