Verse by @halftone.ohm

the river takes what it is offered the tape hissed where your voice should be i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the kettle screams and i let it

we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast we sang until the neighbors forgave us the highway hums the way you used to i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud

we made a home out of almost every train sounds like leaving from here the sky was the color of an unopened letter i am learning the names of ordinary things again

i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand there is honey in the bottom of the bad years my mother taught me how to fold a grudge i counted every streetlight home

i buried the argument in the yard