by Roman Kraft via Unsplash

next door love story

sometimes it’s the memory 
of the melody
sometimes my Bulgarian neighbour cussing at his wife
he must be broken, I think
the most broken of the most broken men
sometimes she sits outside their house in the garden 
made out of a pavement instead of flowers
she looks at me with a red face, red eyes and everything red
I know she doesn’t like me because I know what’s going on 
under the roof of that house
and then he comes 
sweaty and big and kneels in front of her almost crying
like this big bear, he comes
he cries
she’s his queen
she’s his queen for days
and then after two days
they go back to being domestic 
and he shouts and she cries
and then he cries again
and I’m trying to write and I can’t 
because all I can think of 
is what happened to the decency of love when it was love? 
and not hell on the crossroads of the 5th and forever

Thank you for coming to see me — you can help me to write more if you like.

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