Verse by @moth.lamp

every train sounds like leaving from here winter came in through the window we never fixed i wore your city like a borrowed coat i speak to the version of you that listens

i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand the field went gold then went to sleep i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand the birds do not know we broke up

the birds do not know we broke up the kettle screams and i let it the lemon tree outlived the marriage i keep the receipts of everything i felt

i counted every streetlight home there is honey in the bottom of the bad years the moon is a coin i cannot spend we are all somebody else's weather