Verse by @lyra.dunes

my mother taught me how to fold a grudge the floorboards keep the score we were young and the light was cheap i speak to the version of you that listens

the lemon tree outlived the marriage i put the whole year in one suitcase i am the last one at the party fixing the lights the dog still waits by the door at six

i speak to the version of you that listens we sang until the neighbors forgave us the church bell is just a bell on tuesdays the radio only plays the parts i remember

we sang until the neighbors forgave us the sea does not remember any of our names the dog still waits by the door at six the kettle screams and i let it

the birds do not know we broke up there is honey in the bottom of the bad years i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands