May 19, 2020

Do you think the Neighbors know our Love? {Poem}

Do you think the neighbors know our love story?

Unlike most beginnings—long nights filled with yelling, broken bongs, and my belligerent drunk self.

Do you think they heard the makeup sex in the shower; taking bets on if I came or if I was faking?

Do you think they could smell the love steaming from your blended flavors on the stove?

Could they feel the joy from my feet prancing around the kitchen while you made your apartment feel like a home?

Do you think the neighbors know how tight you’re holding my chest as I push my body deeper into yours, because space is irrelevant around you?

Do you think they know we didn’t actually cuddle to a movie because your skin on mine feels like lyrics to my favorite song, and I can’t get enough of you?

Or do you think when they observe the silence they picture the way your fingertips move faster across my skin than before and how we use both sides of the bed now?

Do you think the neighbors can hear our level of playfulness as we walk down the hallway?

Can they hear my hand slapping your butt and your accompanied smile that shouts I love you without needing words?

Or my nerves that convince my heartbeat to race moments before entering your door?

Are they aware of every sigh and every aw?

Do you think they have a tally sheet of how many times we say I love you and how many times we say I hate you to each other?

Do they know that you get angry when you burn the breakfast bacon and that when you tell me to get out of the way, you really mean to say you care about me?

Do you think they capture our laughter in a jar, when we live our lives with each other as if nothing else existed outside of this living room?

When they hear a loud noise, do they know that you’ve tackled me to the ground only to passionately kiss me before helping me back up?

Do you think it’s possible that we’ve shared our complete happiness with them too?

Can they hear the difference in our fingertips when we scroll social media together and separately?

Then, the silence.

Do you think they heard it before we did?

Nights spent coloring with headphones on, muted conversations, and needed background music.

Do you think they peeked out of their peephole the night I left quietly with my laundry basket and detergent?

I wonder if they felt sadness or if they thought, “finally.”

Do you think the neighbors saw her walk through your doorway while I was gone?

I do wonder if they noticed how the mattress squeaked differently, because it wasn’t the same one we slept on.

I wonder if they noticed how electronic music played at night out of your television speakers instead of the usual late night movie.

Do you think, they think, I don’t know?

Do you think within the past four weeks our sounds linger into their apartment informing them of our new commitment to one another?

If you were the neighbors,

Would you think we were in love?


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