Sunday Morning: Loft Apartment by Sarah Spires

I was listening to that old Strokes album
you got me for my birthday
and you were smoking a cigarette.

We were just two people
locked together by broken promises
and unrealistic expectations.

I liked the way you kissed me,
like you were deep in thought
about each brush of our lips.

But maybe you were really somewhere
far, far away,
dreaming of a life without me
where you ride your bike to work
and play poker on Tuesday nights.

You told me you wanted to know me better,
my skin hung heavy
with regret and insecurities
that you could never understand

So I laid back and watched you blow out smoke
as Julien Casablanca’s voice cooed to the highest octave,
enjoying the simplicity of the moment
but wondering how long it would be before you were gone.

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2 thoughts on “Sunday Morning: Loft Apartment by Sarah Spires

  1. I love the realism in this piece. Each stanza had different feel to and a different connection. For me, It was a brilliant combination of abandonment and love all in one emotion. The persona has this voice in every word and it’s almost like you can hear it. They feel dead. Now, I don’t have any reason to believe they’re actually dead, but the vibe from their words and the way they’re strung together and the word choice and the images, it all just seems like the persona is dead inside. And I strangely love that. I think I love it because it is so well done and so perfectly executed. Well done poem. Brilliant as always.

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