Verse by @bram.ellery

we are all somebody else's weather the kettle screams and i let it i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand i love you in the tense that has no word

the tape hissed where your voice should be the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath we were young and the light was cheap we were young and the light was cheap

i still set the table for the ghost of us i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands my mother taught me how to fold a grudge the dog still waits by the door at six

you left your jacket on the chair like a promise winter came in through the window we never fixed we made a home out of almost i buried the argument in the yard

summer left its fingerprints on the glass the kettle screams and i let it i counted every streetlight home my hands still know your kitchen

the sea does not remember any of our names i wore your city like a borrowed coat i still set the table for the ghost of us