Verse by @wren.hollow

i keep the receipts of everything i felt the floorboards keep the score the tape hissed where your voice should be my hands still know your kitchen

the map was wrong but the walking was right i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet i wore your city like a borrowed coat i love you in the tense that has no word

the lemon tree outlived the marriage the bus came and i did not get on the sea does not remember any of our names there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

i saved the last cigarette for a braver night i am learning to be a room with the curtains open