P.S.

If you hold this paper to the window,
will you see the tears;
hidden marks so precious?

If you examine my scrawl
from one to the next
will you notice my smile,
the tremble of my hand
or the deep, deep love
between ‘I’ and ‘you‘?
All the things left unsaid
when I buttoned my lip,
crossed my fingers,
crossed my heart and
hoped to die with my
green eyes hidden
behind polite, perfect grammar…
desire drenched or
anger swallowed as I
held my breath,
counted to ten,
let my pain go,
began again.

They are all in these words just here,
as a pointless Post Script
to remind me.

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