By: Tessa Dale
I want to tell a secret before it explodes,
But if I tell you,
Then you'll know,
It won't be my treasure.
I worked hard to keep It down,
Hard to squelch it,
Chain it down and keep it hidden,
I tried my best to ignore Its existence.
The patience It sees in you,
Makes It grow stronger as time passes,
It tells me to suck up my pride,
But I can't help but turn away.
It ponders at how I became so afraid,
How I could be so distant,
And run away from what I want the most,
It wonders why I cannot share my secret.
But Sharing is Telling.
And Telling is Knowing.
If Knowing is Trouble,
Then Trouble is exhausting.
But sometimes exhaustion is good, It says to me.
Sharing is good,
Knowing is very helpful,
And Trouble's exhilarating.
I look away, It echoes.
I turn back, watching as It stares back at me.
My hand touches It,
It touches my hand.
The cool glass keeps us from truly connecting,
Just a reflection…
Are you so certain?
I never have been...
She smiles, kind, understanding.
I smile back,
I am afraid, I say.
We all are, She says.