Verse by @nell.paperback

we made a home out of almost there is honey in the bottom of the bad years the sea does not remember any of our names we made a home out of almost

i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud my mother taught me how to fold a grudge i put the whole year in one suitcase we were young and the light was cheap

there is honey in the bottom of the bad years the church bell is just a bell on tuesdays the radio only plays the parts i remember the lemon tree outlived the marriage

the sky was the color of an unopened letter i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the cold got into the bones of the house the lemon tree outlived the marriage

i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries