I've been home for hours but still wearing boots. I'm still full of adrenaline. The windows are wide open and the air is cold.
I'm feeling the weight of writing even though I do it every day. I want to write and yet I tuck it into secret crevices, open crevices, like curled notes or prayers or I don't know what. I need a place to put these words. Because I feel like I can't remember them after I write them.
