Tag Archives: Writing

Sometimes I write what I feel

Birdie

Sometimes —
when I’m sure that no one’s watching —
I write what I feel.

I can’t do it on the bus,
when someone next to me might surreptitiously cast
one eye in my direction,

or at the office,
when someone might sneak a glance at my desk
from across a carpeted, cubicled span of inches.

Really, it’s best not to use paper at all,

in case it slips out of my pocket
while I’m climbing a flight of stairs,

and heavenforbid someone recognizes my handwriting.

So I write it on my heart instead,
traced into the veins and ventricles inside me,

secret.

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Filed under Poetry