Verse by @isla.marren

the calendar keeps making promises there is honey in the bottom of the bad years my hands still know your kitchen the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors

i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud my hands still know your kitchen you left your jacket on the chair like a promise i am learning the names of ordinary things again

i still set the table for the ghost of us i am the last one at the party fixing the lights i wore your city like a borrowed coat the sea does not remember any of our names

we made a home out of almost the church bell is just a bell on tuesdays the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath the sea does not remember any of our names