shivering

it’s cold. and late.

i’m stumbling in my shoes. 

i can’t seem to walk off the lethargic gait with each uneasy step. 

i have music in, to steep out my thoughts. 

i have no time to be tired, but i can feel it pulling down over my eyelids. 

it wasn’t raining before—

i see the trees shiver with me in the wind before i feel it hit. 

lashing against my side. 

it’ll try push me over the bridge. 

the room’s too cold for this. 

i my rib cage rattles up inside me, in obvious distress. 

i can only huddle into what little of myself there is.