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Kewayne Wadley Oct 2018
Her heart is an apartment.
A building I know well.
Well lit, comfortably nestled in the center of her chest.
Free from rent.
The trouble of pink slips.
Delinquent notices of insecurity.
Broken promises.
Each of our memories kept safe, behind each & every door.
A winding case of stairs.
With us the occupants of every  floor.
Tiny peep holes with welcome mats beneath the door.
It's times like this when I think how big the world really is.
The countless number of steps taken.
Helping each other unpack our bags.
On the outside of each sliding door is a patio.
The stars never seemed so close.
Long uninterrupted stares.
Peering back and forth.
Our belongings all lined up.
A dresser that holds every piece of clothing.
My arms, legs.
All slid into the thought of you.
Her heart is a apartment.
A building I know well.
She loved old things.
Her heart sterdy, each piece of mail addressed with a kiss.
The only knock heard, goes without embarrassment.
We,
The tenants.
spend most of our time visiting ourselves.
Running up and down the stairs.
Moving in was the best decision I ever made
Bexis Sep 2018
No matter how hard you work...
No matter how much you make...
No matter how much it takes...
It is never enough.

Let me say that again!
It it never enough.
You live your whole life to make as much as possible.
No matter the cost.

Work 3 jobs, work over 60 hours a week.
Only to get a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment.
Because you have to have your own bathroom.
You have to have the best of everything.

You talk about your dream house.
Yet you can't even afford to fix up the house you live in.
Talk about how many people are going to leave you money when they die.
Why?
To talk about how rich you'll be.

Here I am.
Scraping by.
In a cheap apartment.
Barely afford to get groceries.

But you know it's no skin off my back.
I have something way better than being rich.
At least I have a place to live and a job.
I have a girlfriend who I would die for.

Some things are better than money.
I am glad I know this.
I am glad I don't run in circles for it.
Life is what you make it.

If that's what you make it about, that's okay.
I choose to believe there is more to life than that.
mismatched furniture
a few dishes in the cupboards
a couple random blankets and lamps
a pan and a mug or two in the sink
a broken clock above the fake fireplace
a fake jackalope head on the fireplace

a couple college kids' apartment
my brother and his roommate
it isn't much but it feels like home
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Best expressed in a word for the listening,
"****."
People are *****, can and will be, both.
A ****.
Is such an intrusive thing,
proposed to bore holes
and fill bored holes
with ease.
People are *****, can and will be, both.
***** infiltrate.
***** find space.
***** will push
sometimes
when you
push them
away.
***** will push
sometimes
when you
give them
a, "No."
Kewayne Wadley Jun 2018
I know this may sound strange.
To know if we could meet again
As if the first hasn't happened.
The same sleepless nights,
The beginning of Summer.
Finally asleep with the thought of you.
The nostalgia of a smile.
Wasting my time in a dream.
To think of myself as an apartment.
You the city I gaze into.
I know this may seem strange.
Staring out the patio window of a one bedroom apartment.
Searching to live in the comfort of again.
To be honest I couldn't be any happier.
The blinking buildings, the backdrop of sky.
It's almost therapeutic, the way I think of you.
To stand on the balcony at night,
Reliving the same feeling of meeting you.
Miles away from any and everything except you.
With your favorite color lighter.
Waiting to hear about your day
Sky Apr 2018
i don't know when it was but one day, my apartment began to grow
cardboard boxes. they came from

nowhere
and
everywhere

all at once-- a silent
invasion, i felt a faint ache in the back of my neck but
alas, what could i do? i allowed it to
continue.

now as i sit amidst the cardboard boxes, and hear their
rich conversations
and articulate speech, i cannot help but realize that the apartment is a stage. and the boxes have more stage presence than i have ever had. and suddenly i am the most pathetic, lowly actor on this cardboard stage of cardboard boxes and i wonder to myself, where did i go wrong?
Cassandra Lane Mar 2018
There's sanity in watching you sleep at night
My anxiety sometimes doesn't let me
but watching and listening to you breath
  breath after breath
slow and soft and unconscious breathing
it's enough to melt everything else away for a while
  it's enough to make me sane again
I don't get to see it often
only when my house is closer to point A than yours
or I ask you to come keep me company
But I know soon point B will always be our apartment
We feel so lost right now
  trying to find a place to call home
But I believe we'll find it
It'll be overpriced and small
I don't know where we'll put all your shoes
  or all my camera equipment
I imagine our clothes will be packed in our suitcases forever
  because there won't be any closet space
We'll be too close to the freeway and the trucks will keep us up at night
and our upstairs neighbors will be breakdancers or something
  and they'll always be on the wrong timezone
but none of that will matter
as long as you hold me
and as long as every night
  I get to hear your breathing
b Mar 2018
i don't have enough ram
to process all the ****
i hear sometimes.

i could yell
every secret ive ever heard
from the top
of the cn tower.
and the cars
would keep driving,
id still be afraid of heights,
and she probably
wouldn't care for me
anymore than she already
didn't.

well what's the fun in that then
Brandon Brazel Feb 2018
I live in a one bedroom apartment.
Everything is going great until I have to pay Rent.
One day the electricity turns off;
I have no money to put off.
The next day the water turns off;
I have no money to put off.
Then a roommate shows up,
And everything turned off.
This roommate I have keeps me home,
He keeps me awake at night,
Screaming at the top of his lungs,
Begging me to come home.
When I get home I feel alone,
Then he starts to peel the wallpaper off the walls
Like pulling skin off the bone.
This is not home;
This is my home,
And my roommate...
Is depression.
Struggles get tough, keep looking up and admire the beauty in life. Be happy with who you are and talk to someone even if you don’t know them.
emmie cosgrove Feb 2018
One day I’ll be sat next to you and we’ll have the car window down with music blaring way too loud as we drive under a sunset of lilac and cinnamon kisses with boxes in the back as we adventure on to the apartment we’ve just bought and that for the first couple of months we’ll probably struggle to afford.

But right now, we’re focused on decorating the rooms with succulents and picking out scented candles for the bathroom. Instead of unpacking for the first day or two we’ll keep the music blaring and dance with each other barefooted across the wooden floor and fall more and more in love with everything and starting a whole new life.

It is the thoughts like this that are still keeping me alive.
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