Verse by @rae.voss

the cold got into the bones of the house i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries the kettle screams and i let it my hands still know your kitchen

i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands there is a version of us that stayed i counted every streetlight home i put the whole year in one suitcase

i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet i keep the porch light on for nobody i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud the lemon tree outlived the marriage

the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors