Verse by @kai.ashland

i wore your city like a borrowed coat i keep apologizing to furniture the cold got into the bones of the house the birds do not know we broke up

we were young and the light was cheap i keep the receipts of everything i felt i keep apologizing to furniture the river takes what it is offered

i keep apologizing to furniture i am learning to be a room with the curtains open i still set the table for the ghost of us there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

the sky was the color of an unopened letter somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried i speak to the version of you that listens i keep apologizing to furniture

we were young and the light was cheap i keep the receipts of everything i felt my hands still know your kitchen my mother taught me how to fold a grudge

i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud