Secret Places


I hide inside myself

in some secret waiting place

far away,

close beside,

listening to songs

I remember

of you.


No one goes

or knows

or maybe even cares,

and the brook of my yesterday

is a quiet spot

humming reflections

of soft cheeks

and soft lips

and gentle bruises

and I leave,

walking lightly,

when the hurting

hurts too much.


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