Verse by @vera.tundra

my hands still know your kitchen i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands nothing holy ever asked for my name there is a version of us that stayed

we are all somebody else's weather the bus came and i did not get on i keep apologizing to furniture every train sounds like leaving from here

i keep the porch light on for nobody the dog still waits by the door at six you left your jacket on the chair like a promise the calendar keeps making promises

i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries