The Feed

“Some words do not die when unspoken they linger, learning the shape of your silence.” I kept them. Not out of longing don’t romanticize me like that but because paper does what people don’t. It stays. Each envelope a quiet witness. Corners softened by years of almost. Ink bled where my hands trembled, where I pressed too hard, as if pressure alone could force truth through a body that had already decided to survive by swallowing it whole. There are sentences here that still