Thursday, February 16, 2017

Hidden, a tail

Hidden
the broken glass bottle from yesterday's evening
mixtures of your taste and mine

hidden
the acne around my jaw
to make attractive, my words

hidden
the stutter in my recent speech
too little time to finish my sentences

hidden
the smart allocation of mundane
set ups with color coded post-its

hidden
the bones I have staked away in the garden
history, mystery and the present

hidden
the times I refused to openly tell you
the flowers have long died

hidden
I know your secret, it is along my ribs
walled with a lie and a thick scarf

hidden
in the verse lining our eyes
three years' worth of words
things one of us will not regret.

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