An Apartment That Wasn't An Apartment

They met in an apartment that wasn’t an apartment. But the apartment offered dark corners to lock lips, to grope when nobody was watching. The apartment had steaming cups of hot cocoa on February nights and music to combat lonely Sunday mornings.

Look at the sky, baby. What do you see? Looks like the tears that I cry. Fallin’ down like rain on the ground, every time you say goodbye…

They met in an apartment that wasn’t an apartment. But the apartment provided board games to play when all else was quiet. The apartment had connection when life seemed to need it.

They met in an apartment that wasn’t an apartment. But the apartment had halloween costumes and camera lights flashing into faces. The apartment featured saturated color to counter what the world may perceive as black and white. 

They met in an apartment that wasn’t an apartment. But the apartment had bodies sprawled out on the floor like a college dorm room. The apartment embodied shared ground. Epitomized home.

They met in an apartment that wasn’t an apartment. But the apartment encompassed vibes that ebbed and flowed. The apartment sometimes held onto tensions that gnawed on the skin and unsettled the stomach.

Take a look around now, why don’t you feel, the way that cold wind stings and bites? And your words just are like arrows through my heart, every time you say goodbye…

They met in an apartment that wasn’t an apartment. But the apartment is now vacant; all that’s left are the embers of what it forged; what it brought together in times of purpose. 

The apartment is gone, but they’re still standing.

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