Our shadows tell secrets to the ground, and perhaps that's why the earth knows us so well. I used to be jealous of the moon that heard your 3 a.m. secrets, but the truth is that late at night, you can hear the planet weep under the secrets it can no longer keep. Our silence won't protect us; our secrets burn at the bottom of our chests, constantly reminding us of their presence. They sit heavy on top of your heart, forcing it to beat faster, louder. These secrets demand to be released. To flood like blood from a gaping wound. Your eyes grow heavier; your soul drifts away farther amid a restless tide with every secret you hold back, burning the tip of your tongue, eager to escape. The wind slips through your window to steal the secrets you keep locked in your heart. What else is it whispering as the trees sway to their side to hear? Is this why the deepest of secrets you hide are the ones that keep you wide awake at night? These truths remain hidden between the folds of the person I allow you to see. The art of keeping secrets is one you must master. It might suffocate me – to choke on the words I'm too afraid to say - but I still won't share
**i wrote this for school when we had to write about "something we wouldn't share", i haven't uploaded in forever so i hope you like it x
YOU ARE READING
purpose (spilled ink)
PoetryThis is how I feel. [words strung together, expressing emotions i will never understand] it is my PURPOSE in life; to find, to fulfill, to feel.
