Thayer Street

I laid on my stomach

on that old futon we turned into a bed

by adding an extra mattress

and pretending the support bars

didn’t dig into our bones while we slept,

in the basement apartment

that flooded during storms.

I stared at brick walls

that bled crimson dust

at the slightest touch,

and listened to rain drops hit the street

on a night so warm they evaporated

as soon as they touched the pavement.

I heard footsteps and cars

outside the tiny window

and the sound of your breathing

as you slept next to me.

I believed it would always be that way.

Thayer Street

mfreitas

Warren, United States

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