There is something
too heavy about secrets.
Yet still I take yours in my arms
and handle with care
or try to, try to keep
your fragile secrets from
shattering.
I used to keep them stowed away in
glass jars on the windowsill
like fireflies. But secrets aren’t
meant to be left as if
preserved,
as if to someday
lose track of.
So I wear them like medals
around my neck, catch
them glinting in the sunlight,
proud that what are yours
are now mine too.
When I hold the medals in sweaty hands,
the weighty metal melts between
my fingers like glue, caught
in the spaces that before were
empty, sticking to me
like your secrets
have stuck me to you.
too heavy about secrets.
Yet still I take yours in my arms
and handle with care
or try to, try to keep
your fragile secrets from
shattering.
I used to keep them stowed away in
glass jars on the windowsill
like fireflies. But secrets aren’t
meant to be left as if
preserved,
as if to someday
lose track of.
So I wear them like medals
around my neck, catch
them glinting in the sunlight,
proud that what are yours
are now mine too.
When I hold the medals in sweaty hands,
the weighty metal melts between
my fingers like glue, caught
in the spaces that before were
empty, sticking to me
like your secrets
have stuck me to you.
