Verse by @vera.tundra

the tape hissed where your voice should be the lemon tree outlived the marriage the radio only plays the parts i remember the highway hums the way you used to

i am the last one at the party fixing the lights the bus came and i did not get on the sky was the color of an unopened letter the radio only plays the parts i remember

i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand the mirror learned my face by accident the floorboards keep the score i counted every streetlight home

i am learning to be a room with the curtains open we sang until the neighbors forgave us my mother taught me how to fold a grudge