Verse by @indigo.varn

the map was wrong but the walking was right the river takes what it is offered the dog still waits by the door at six we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast

my hands still know your kitchen i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand my mother taught me how to fold a grudge i am the last one at the party fixing the lights

your laugh survives in the hallway the highway hums the way you used to i am learning to be a room with the curtains open we made a home out of almost

my hands still know your kitchen the moon is a coin i cannot spend i put the whole year in one suitcase the kettle screams and i let it

we sang until the neighbors forgave us i buried the argument in the yard somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried the lemon tree outlived the marriage

i wore your city like a borrowed coat we sang until the neighbors forgave us i still set the table for the ghost of us