Verse by @harper.slate

i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud summer left its fingerprints on the glass we made a home out of almost my mother taught me how to fold a grudge

the bus came and i did not get on the map was wrong but the walking was right my mother taught me how to fold a grudge there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

nothing holy ever asked for my name the map was wrong but the walking was right you never asked and i never stopped answering i left the door unlocked for a season

nothing holy ever asked for my name i keep the receipts of everything i felt the field went gold then went to sleep