Search 9,531 forged lines by craft, not popularity.

But my hands / Don't press flat

You still keep my chipped mug on your kitchen counter

Your shadow ghosts across the window

But her mouth holds them like stones

What if I was wrong about everything?

Thumb worn smooth where his hand went before

But my left hand knows too much now

I left him on the shoulder of I-40 where he belongs

I watched you wait until the waiting turned you cold

Until tonight the quiet cut the lights

My hands close the distance I opened with my mouth

I reached for you in a dark parking lot on a Tuesday

Bitter tea scalds these hands

I ate humble like bread, I drank 'not yet' like rain

Left a man bleeding in a parking lot and ran

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

Where your son sits holding what used to hold strong

The chair still leans toward where you sat

Then I come home to the silent phone

I'm afraid if I close my eyes / I'll have to open them again