Feeling a winter's-blade I sit.

Uncertainty encompases me

A secret, clueless on how to defend

Or which confidant to favor

But would it be me they’d accuse?

Not wanting the taunting secret

Knowing grass grows greener by the crow

Shall stay under     till’ more than a wonder

Close-packed with both of my friends

I am  juggling jack o lanterns

Question? What is righteous from wrong?

Wishing it just never happened.

Why tell?   Knowing I’d be conflicted

Her vile secret  put me in a taxing  place

She fornicated with my other friends lover

It is now when fellowships descend

Realizing this is getting me nowhere

I seek advice from my mother, who

Suggests a deal with the betrayer

Tell her, “It’s either I spill or you”...“It’s either I spill or you”, I say