Verse by @ash.faraday

my hands still know your kitchen i put the whole year in one suitcase we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud

i love you in the tense that has no word we are all somebody else's weather the sea does not remember any of our names i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand

i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand the tape hissed where your voice should be your laugh survives in the hallway i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands

i wore your city like a borrowed coat