The Loves, Vol I: The Spark · Track 14 · middle
The Full Apartment (Aromantic Love)
Aromantic
Lyrics
[Intro] The clock on the stove says two-oh-three. The kettle is just starting to sigh. There is no other breath here but mine. [Verse 1] The armchair by the window is worn in one place, a perfect hollow. From years of my own weight. My copy of *Dune*, the 1984 printing, is open on the arm. Page four-hundred-and-seven. The green tea from Kyoto is steeping in the pot my sister gave me. Its steam fogs the glass. They say a space holds the shape of what it’s waiting for. This one is not waiting. [Chorus] They call it empty, this full apartment. They listen for an echo, but I only hear the hum. The whisper of connection is the turning of a page. The quiet conversation with the person I’ll become. The floorboards don’t complain about a single set of feet. This house is not a vessel. It is already complete. [Verse 2] My phone lit up at noon, a picture from Maria in Lisbon. A tile she knew I'd love. The kitchen is clean, the spices are in alphabetical order. Cardamom, then Clove. I bought two perfect artichokes at the market on Saturday. I will cook them for me. With lemon and salt. I will eat them leaf by leaf. And read my book, and not feel the slightest grief. [Chorus] They call it empty, this full apartment. They listen for an echo, but I only hear the hum. The whisper of connection is the turning of a page. The quiet conversation with the person I’ll become. The floorboards don’t complain about a single set of feet. This house is not a vessel. It is already complete. [Bridge] My mother called on Tuesday, her voice a careful question. "Just checking in, my love. Is it quiet there?" And I said, "Yes. It's quiet." She thinks this journal on my desk is for a story with a 'we'. She doesn't see the maps I've drawn, the plans for just a 'me'. She sees a missing chair at the table. I see a better view of the rain. [Outro] The clock on the stove says two-oh-nine. The tea is ready now. The hum of the fridge is a steady friend. The story is on page four-hundred-and-eight. Full.