We are betrothed
to our secrets.
Promised completely
to that which we hold
closest to our hearts.
We have whispered vows
in the darkness.
When sleep did not find us,
we spoke to our hidden hearts,
deep things
that never see the light.
Sometimes,
in the darkness before morning,
we reach out for them,
as if needing comfort
that they are still there.
We court our shrouded selves
with guilt and admonishment,
keeping a tight hold on our secrets,
as if they might escape us.
More than we admit,
they make us who we are.
Talismans of our buried nature,
we would be bereft without them.
Lost and listless lovers,
without our hidden selves to hold.
We are to our secrets
grown together,
intricately, inexorably.
Where our hidden lives end
and we begin,
is delineated by no one,
but known in the heart.
Secret selves are night whispers
And embraces before the dawn.
HG – 2016
