Verse by @jonah.reyes

i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet summer left its fingerprints on the glass the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors the field went gold then went to sleep

the dog still waits by the door at six the highway hums the way you used to i keep the receipts of everything i felt i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud

the sea does not remember any of our names i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand every train sounds like leaving from here i keep apologizing to furniture

i am learning to be a room with the curtains open the dog still waits by the door at six the map was wrong but the walking was right the river takes what it is offered

i am learning the names of ordinary things again summer left its fingerprints on the glass