The best Indie lines from the corpus.

Sheet smell of three days sleeping

But her mouth holds them like stones

She's folding Sunday mornings like they're just clothes

Small hands pressed flat against the glass

When the dark breaks open

My hands look like my father's in this light

going cold in my hands

Kitchen light makes my hands look borrowed

That kid locked eyes with me / Through cracked glass and fear

Home is the space between your breathing and my ribcage

Left your sleeping house with shoes by the bed

Yellow leaves scattered like evidence

How guilt sounds when it's got teeth

Glass ring on the floor, perfect circle / Mark of where I sat and couldn't move

Glass ring on the floor, perfect circle

But I was shadow you had to leave

Your hand outside the blanket. / Small.

The door left open decides for both of us

Radio hums like someone breathing

Truth caught behind my teeth, still nodding

My mouth keeps moving while my mind goes quiet

Threw them out still wrapped in plastic

Water running, silver clinking like applause

But I'm practicing being no one

The door closed in your mind / While my mouth kept moving

Made sure the locks were too tight for small hands

Your plate's still warm when you are

You're sitting where the afternoon cuts you into strips

My phone weighs heavy in my pocket

My left hand isn't mine anymore