Stick Around

The warmth spreads across my skin, as if someone has turned on the sun inside my chest. Everything seems calm - it's just evening, just a window, just a room with people you don't know. But somewhere deep inside, that very nerve is twitching – from awkwardness, from a strange attempt to be "rational" when what you really want is to just exhale and allow yourself to fall apart. There's a feeling of summer heat in this music that you can't hide from, no matter how you close your eyes. She clings to you - softly, persistently, like a memory you can't escape. And suddenly you realise: you don't have to be someone's plan, you don't have to be a "together person." You can just stay - with this warmth, with this weakness, with this living, slightly bewildered heart.