eyes cast down, slowly rolling to the only part of me that I care to see. I watch my feet settle into the gravel, constantly reminding me that this is real.
dig my toes into my soul (of my shoes?) trying to find some sort of stable substance to hold on to.
I feel uncomfortable, the butterflies in my stomach burn to ash and float slowly upwards to settle in the deepest depth of my being.
dig my fingernails into my palms, fingers pressing hard, making half moons in my armor
shove my hands into the warmth of my pockets, grabbing fistfulls of satin. of restraint.
I hear my heart. strumming short. then long. then short again. as if sending out morse code.
whispers even when I choose to say nothing. singing my secrets to whomever will listen.
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