Verse by @tess.nakamura

i wore your city like a borrowed coat i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud i am the last one at the party fixing the lights there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

i am the last one at the party fixing the lights the map was wrong but the walking was right the river takes what it is offered we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast

the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors you never asked and i never stopped answering the dog still waits by the door at six i am learning the names of ordinary things again

i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the sea does not remember any of our names my mother taught me how to fold a grudge my hands still know your kitchen

the sea does not remember any of our names