Verse by @jonah.reyes

the dog still waits by the door at six i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet we made a home out of almost the birds do not know we broke up

you never asked and i never stopped answering i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud we made a home out of almost

the radio only plays the parts i remember the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath the sea does not remember any of our names every train sounds like leaving from here

the sky was the color of an unopened letter the kettle screams and i let it you never asked and i never stopped answering the dog still waits by the door at six

the church bell is just a bell on tuesdays i keep the porch light on for nobody the map was wrong but the walking was right i am learning the names of ordinary things again

the kettle screams and i let it i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand