Secret Places
I hide inside myself
in some secret waiting place
far away,
close beside,
listening to songs
I remember
of you.
No one goes
or knows
or maybe even cares,
and the brook of my yesterday
is a quiet spot
humming reflections
of soft cheeks
and soft lips
and gentle bruises
and I leave,
walking lightly,
when the hurting
hurts too much.
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