Verse by @wren.hollow

i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands i wore your city like a borrowed coat you can hear the whole town breathing at four am we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast

i am the last one at the party fixing the lights winter came in through the window we never fixed i left the door unlocked for a season you were a rumor i believed twice

the birds do not know we broke up the radio only plays the parts i remember my hands still know your kitchen the floorboards keep the score

i keep the porch light on for nobody i love you in the tense that has no word i buried the argument in the yard winter came in through the window we never fixed

my mother taught me how to fold a grudge my mother taught me how to fold a grudge the dog still waits by the door at six the field went gold then went to sleep

i am not sorry for the way i loved out loud the birds do not know we broke up somewhere a phone rings and nobody is worried there is a version of us that stayed