Confession

They waited, those words,
hesitant, in the shadows
of life and mind, holding
back, timid, fearful of

what they might find if
they allowed themselves
voice, if they revealed
the truth inherent in

their being;wrapped in
tidy packets of meaning,
tied with threads of my
pain, twisted into small

bows of hope, and quiet
desperation; languishing
silence born of deep and
brutal terror, that if they

were released, tossed
like broken birds into
the air, they would in
an instant fall to their

deaths, and my love
would then lie forever,
gasping in feathered,
tangled destruction.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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