Verse by @cass.overgrow

i am the last one at the party fixing the lights the cold got into the bones of the house the dog still waits by the door at six the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors

winter came in through the window we never fixed the mirror learned my face by accident the church bell is just a bell on tuesdays summer left its fingerprints on the glass

there is honey in the bottom of the bad years the highway hums the way you used to i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet you can hear the whole town breathing at four am

the tape hissed where your voice should be my mother taught me how to fold a grudge we made a home out of almost nothing holy ever asked for my name

the dog still waits by the door at six i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand i still set the table for the ghost of us the dog still waits by the door at six

we are all somebody else's weather we made a home out of almost