they write your name on a cup
then the cup is crushed, discarded
in another gesture to a refuse kind of day
hiding behind closed doors with
all feathers turned to vane, whispering
wishes breathlessly to the dim
they will not know these ever for
love lies bleeding in the snow
rapiers quivering, too late for regrets
hidden
6 responses to “hidden”
❤️
Thank you, Natalie. ❤️
It seems that everything is disposable these days.
Keep it real behind closed doors.I’m in agreement. Simple acts of rebellion are becoming my Raison d’être.
Excellent…especially that fist stanza.
Thanks Bob.
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