Spilled Honey
(in response to Prompt 21)
There are days when it is my turn
not to show my face,
when it is my turn
to turn my toes toward each other,
to cover my ears with my arms,
to hide and protect
shame or fear or guilt or blame
or desire.
Head low, only empty chairs at my side
Maybe no one will know.
Maybe no one will care
and wouldn't that be the worst of it?
To carry a secret that gnaws
on your insides, leaving
the outside beautifully flawed
and the whole world fooled?
Desire spreads like spilled honey --
indulgent liquid, slow sweet trap
drawing flies.
2 comments:
This is wonderful! You inspire me and make me want to get back to it and be a blogger. Your voice and pacing and awesome on their own, but when I looked at the picture that prompted you, I was just floored by how well you captured the gritty texture of the photo in the voice. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks for the encouragement! I appreciate it deeply.
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