Verse by @poppy.mires

the sky was the color of an unopened letter i still set the table for the ghost of us the dog still waits by the door at six i buried the argument in the yard

somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried the lemon tree outlived the marriage the kettle screams and i let it my mother taught me how to fold a grudge

summer left its fingerprints on the glass the floorboards keep the score i speak to the version of you that listens the radio only plays the parts i remember

the map was wrong but the walking was right you can hear the whole town breathing at four am