Heap

The streets felt different than they used to,
wet,
damp even,
a bit off-putting,

and all I wanted to do was go home,

and be alone thinking about the people I was just with,
or the people I didn't say enough to,
or do enough for,

and I wanted to slow my words down,
but I didn't want to be forgotten,

and it was getting harder and harder to do all of that at the same time,
or even consecutively