Verse by @theo.brackish

the dog still waits by the door at six my hands still know your kitchen i put the whole year in one suitcase the birds do not know we broke up

we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast we made a home out of almost i keep the porch light on for nobody i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet

i am learning the names of ordinary things again the moon is a coin i cannot spend i wore your city like a borrowed coat your laugh survives in the hallway

the tape hissed where your voice should be i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand i wore your city like a borrowed coat the mirror learned my face by accident

every train sounds like leaving from here i still set the table for the ghost of us i am learning the names of ordinary things again the bus came and i did not get on