Verse by @june.parade

the cold got into the bones of the house the mirror learned my face by accident i keep apologizing to furniture my hands still know your kitchen

i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand we were young and the light was cheap the floorboards keep the score the sky was the color of an unopened letter

the tape hissed where your voice should be the river takes what it is offered i counted every streetlight home the field went gold then went to sleep