Verse by @tess.nakamura

the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors the birds do not know we broke up i keep the receipts of everything i felt the moon is a coin i cannot spend

i am learning to be a room with the curtains open the kettle screams and i let it the sea does not remember any of our names the highway hums the way you used to

summer left its fingerprints on the glass the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors the calendar keeps making promises somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried

i counted every streetlight home i am learning to be a room with the curtains open i love you in the tense that has no word there is honey in the bottom of the bad years

i keep the receipts of everything i felt winter came in through the window we never fixed we sang until the neighbors forgave us