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Telling Secrets

I sidle up to one perfect stranger,
remarking that this one isn't afraid.
Our stories collide, murky,
but all the same intelligible,
at least, for our sakes, we hope so--

and mostly to the other,
there has never been anything
that made as much sense.

In our unapologetic rendering
of the truth, we stop time,
and unearth at its end
something real, something
unexpected peeking
out from beneath the heavy matters.

In plain sight, a splendid little
corner reveals itself, and begs us
dig deeper of its curiosities.

We know it owns the world
somehow, this simple vestige,
needing only one plus another,
never meant to be buried,
but left out in open air,
to be savored with the sweet.

Comments

  1. "needing only one plus another"

    Gosh, i just love that line. there is a very cool feel to this poem. I'm really liking it.

    :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Deep! Very deep, yet exactly what happens, when one goes there.

    ReplyDelete

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