Whispers in the night.
Ear pressed to mouth.
Hidden messages.
Secrets spilling out of you as they beg don't tell too.
Whispers in the day.
Note passed in the halls.
Hidden texts behind your books.
Secrets spilling out of you as they beg don't tell too.
They can't keep closed, they never will.
Their mouths are open and they'll rant and rant.
They'll tell it all but beg you to keep it hushed.
Soon they will learn what they should've known all along.
Secrets are not meant to be hushed.
They are meant to be silent.
YOU ARE READING
Dreaming With Your Eyes Open
PoésieThey say what's dead is never really gone. They say all kinds of things They say there are 5 stages of grief. I feel a hundred. They say you're in a better place. But wouldn't that be with me? What's better than being with the ones you love? I k...
