not that you need to know
but would you like to know a secret?
it’s the curiosity of the unknown that
betrays your smile,
…ha ha…
it’s funny, no?
it was a morning, a dusk at dawn
when he walked alone on the sky
leaving a trail of forlorn vapors,
I knew that it was him, with his
usual tardiness, with ill begotten
terms of endearment, and sly words
whispered beneath the cloak of
midnight.
it was an evening, an enraptured death,
there was the usual sweat in the wind,
and I was walking down the memory lane,
when the wrinkled leaves swept by us,
“Why would you do this to yourself?” he asked,
and I said, “Why… that’s a secret”.
secrets are the aesthetic of our society wherein
the secret lies in the fact that secrets are not kept.
it’s funny, no?
not that you need to know,
would you, would you like to keep a secret
and hold it to your bosom, hide it in the folds
of your desires, because what else would you
hold so dear?
and would you promise to keep it,
by smearing your blood on my lips,
by flipping a coin, by caressing
the calluses on my feet?
there are skeletons in the closet
with a perplexed smile, mold has
taken hold of them and lies grow
instead of skin in its pale sheen.
it’s funny, no?
HA's Place 