Pocket Secrets

I take your secrets

to place in my pocket,

imagining a bond

between you and I.

I hoard them,

pretending you cannot see

that I’ve been watching–


soaking up knowledge

with each of your idiosyncrasies.

Small but electric,

they warm up my fingers

on cool nights in August.

I strive to hold them tightly,

as they twine about my fingertips

thriving on your audience.

Intrigued by your notions

without intending to delve

inside of your intentions–

you’ve awakened inspiration

and in turn,

a sense of caution.


This entry was posted in Poetry.

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