Clandestine Corners


Think of me
As your favourite book;
Familiar tales,
Memorized phrases,
Dogeared pages,
But with torn chapters-
Missing prologue

Think of me
As a misleading lane;
That winds around
The purlieu of my life
But turns away right at the corners
That I do not want you to see

I may be the moon of your life
You may see through me
Like you are my soul’s eye
But the moon has its dark blemishes-craters
And I have my own clandestine corners

Stories of unabsolved disdain,
Traces of blistering touch,
Faces of daunting demons;
Haunting my soul in the deserts of my pain

You may have seen my tears
But you have only tasted
The froth of my pain
For my dregs dont weep
They are fifty shades darker
Than the vault I have locked them in
You will never know they are there
You will never see

I will entomb them
In the womb of the Earth
With the charcoal of my bones
And then will I be free


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