as steam rises in white curls
like fog greeting shore, a subtle
moment stilled,
calming voices
unimportant, unneeded, uninvited.
in this silent hour i can be myself.
i don’t have to
be anyone else.
here with my history on my shoulder
and
beliefs stuffed like a lover’s note in my back pocket.
a slow fire of dawn sneaks-in through
words.
rising behind my eyes,
beholding unseen secrets even the world keeps,
shining as a spider’s web on a frosty
morning
as touching seams gleam and reveal
a secret shared
in love.
what we share
when we really
share
is the most important thing about us.
with friends, enmity becomes
transparency:
in a world of made-up faces,
faux-embraces,
where voices curl
like irons,
and looks can shatter like vases;
it
matters more than anything else
who you share your mornings with.
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