The Poetry Collection [Editing]

17. Secrets Are No Fun

Let me tell you a secret from

My days back when

I thought I'd grow old but

I'm not so sure anymore

If heaven is as warm as hell

And I don't like cold places

Rain frostbite on my eyelashes

And snowflakes on my tongue

Shiver down whispers inside

My glass that keeps me

Warming up to the idea that

I might one day be his wife

Lingering on cheap cotton

Sheets of ice melt

Down the fits and trembling

Blue fingers bruised by

My eyes like icicles

Always sharp and just a bit

Deadly sins dancing along

Mix tapes of old country songs

My mother would play when

She decided to drink to

My anxiety growing in

The generous spirit of

My tongue or my lips or

When it isn't the fog

Because the weather is

Playing with my body and

Digging my grave with

Ways it could go wrong for

Silver rings forged by

Hail slowly falling onto

My word is good

For nothing more than a

Marriage certificate

Dripping frozen ink as if

The antagonizing rhythm of

Nobody's business but

Everybody's climbing the

Shoveled slick staircase causing

My sharp breaths to stand

On my house made only

Of playing cards or

Maybe they play with

Telling me that I haven't

Tried as hard to talk to people

Believing or maybe knowing

I haven't suffered enough from

My heart strings pulling

On my sleeveless smile

While it tugs against my

Frigid muscles waiting to waiver

To change to a frown

Or perhaps a sprained ego

Slipping on the only thing

Keeping me in this winter as

My guts spill because

I can't keep a secret.