Verse by @nova.quill

the highway hums the way you used to my hands still know your kitchen you can hear the whole town breathing at four am i counted every streetlight home

we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast my mother taught me how to fold a grudge my hands still know your kitchen you can hear the whole town breathing at four am

every train sounds like leaving from here the highway hums the way you used to i saved the last cigarette for a braver night i keep the porch light on for nobody

i still set the table for the ghost of us the sky was the color of an unopened letter we made a home out of almost i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries

i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet