Verse by @kai.ashland

the bus came and i did not get on my hands still know your kitchen i am learning to be a room with the curtains open the radio only plays the parts i remember

the calendar keeps making promises i am learning to be a room with the curtains open the tape hissed where your voice should be the moon is a coin i cannot spend

the cold got into the bones of the house i speak to the version of you that listens the field went gold then went to sleep the cold got into the bones of the house

the sea does not remember any of our names summer left its fingerprints on the glass the highway hums the way you used to i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet

the church bell is just a bell on tuesdays the sea does not remember any of our names every train sounds like leaving from here the tape hissed where your voice should be

the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries