and maybe this is the way
i’ll learn to love again
through fogged-up glasses,
the secrets the wind tell.

when it’s raining outside
(this month, it has been)
when i’m camped out
on my bedroom floor,
i want to be found, but not now.

not by you.
not when i don’t know what i want to do,
yet.

the secrets the wind carries away.
the lifting of the
weight.