Verse by @opal.static

the cold got into the bones of the house the moon is a coin i cannot spend i left the door unlocked for a season the highway hums the way you used to

i counted every streetlight home somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried the field went gold then went to sleep i wore your city like a borrowed coat

i buried the argument in the yard the kettle screams and i let it the highway hums the way you used to i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands

the cold got into the bones of the house i still set the table for the ghost of us