Verse by @vera.tundra

you left your jacket on the chair like a promise i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand i counted every streetlight home the moon is a coin i cannot spend

i wore your city like a borrowed coat the wallpaper remembers the wrong colors my mother taught me how to fold a grudge we made a home out of almost

i am learning the names of ordinary things again winter came in through the window we never fixed i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the birds do not know we broke up

i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands the calendar keeps making promises

i keep apologizing to furniture you left your jacket on the chair like a promise i traded my quiet for a louder kind of quiet