Verse by @ivy.transistor

the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors i am the last one at the party fixing the lights there is a version of us that stayed i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands

we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried the dog still waits by the door at six you left your jacket on the chair like a promise

my hands still know your kitchen i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands your laugh survives in the hallway

we made a home out of almost the river takes what it is offered the calendar keeps making promises i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand

you never asked and i never stopped answering summer left its fingerprints on the glass the highway hums the way you used to i keep apologizing to furniture

i saved the last cigarette for a braver night nothing holy ever asked for my name