feelings swirling around
they cry for all the unspoken words they keep in a locked jewelery box
and sometimes they show up
in the emptiness of a home
or the in between spaces of people from a concert's crowd
they are not meant to be contained by flesh and bones
they pour out on paper and songs and road trips and break downs and salty water droplets on a porcelain skin that was faced for the first time with winter's harsh winds















