You've smuggled me into a trial room
in an obscure corner of our favorite mall.
It wasn't very well lit
or crowded.
Everyone's busy with Monday's Brawl.
We're hush-hush with our kisses.
Nothing to see here; no sounds in this stall.
You stand on your toes
to reach me.
Your back to the wall.
We get so tangled
look in the mirror
we're hard to tell apart.
Like roots of Mangroves
with pulsing, beating hearts.
In the reflections,
there are numerous versions
of us. Our own
Mangrove forest. So young
and reckless.
We're tamed now. Mangroves stay in our house.
Hey Bailey
I still remember what you whispered
to me, there in the trial room,
pinned against the wall.
I won't tell anyone. It's our secret. Mum's the word.
