Verse by @jonah.reyes

there is honey in the bottom of the bad years summer left its fingerprints on the glass there is a version of us that stayed the radio only plays the parts i remember

the dog still waits by the door at six the mirror learned my face by accident i keep the porch light on for nobody the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors

i speak to the version of you that listens i still set the table for the ghost of us i left the door unlocked for a season the cold got into the bones of the house

my hands still know your kitchen i speak to the version of you that listens