Verse by @ivy.transistor

the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud we were young and the light was cheap the tape hissed where your voice should be

i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries the dog still waits by the door at six there is honey in the bottom of the bad years i am learning to be a room with the curtains open

the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors nothing holy ever asked for my name you can hear the whole town breathing at four am your laugh survives in the hallway

the field went gold then went to sleep i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the calendar keeps making promises there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

the birds do not know we broke up every train sounds like leaving from here the highway hums the way you used to