Verse by @ren.marlowe

every train sounds like leaving from here the sea does not remember any of our names i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the mirror learned my face by accident

my mother taught me how to fold a grudge i counted every streetlight home i am learning to be a room with the curtains open you left your jacket on the chair like a promise

you can hear the whole town breathing at four am the tape hissed where your voice should be you left your jacket on the chair like a promise there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

the birds do not know we broke up i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand winter came in through the window we never fixed i am learning to be a room with the curtains open