Secrets

The secrets that crumple and wither

are like ending a short-term

soulmate stay…

dying adrift in the wind

and swallowing the day.

The secrets that burn below

are like beginning again

in this artist’s soul…

painting the world red

with the smearing of tempered coals.

The secrets that gather dust

are like fragile heirlooms

made of glass…

waiting for someone to notice,

hanging their heads as you pass.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. SASS-A-FR-ASS says:

    Wonderful Liz! 🙂 >3

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