Rachel Mathews Poet Romanticism

Next To You

The one room apartment, 
The couch that we shared.
We could never make rent,
900's not fair.
To two dead broke kids,
In a half-dead town.
We want to make it,
But we don't know how.
Work scrapes by, 
The day drags on.
Records, the only thing we own.
Sing cracked on a player,
So old and so true.
The singer cries out,
"It was nice waking up next to you."
The one room apartment,
The one we don't own.
But your sea sick smile,
Screams home sweet home.

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