Verse by @moth.lamp

i speak to the version of you that listens there is honey in the bottom of the bad years we are all somebody else's weather my mother taught me how to fold a grudge

i put my grief in a drawer with the batteries there is honey in the bottom of the bad years you were a rumor i believed twice i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand

the kettle screams and i let it i left the door unlocked for a season my mother taught me how to fold a grudge you were a rumor i believed twice