No, we're not in the library.
Summer Ross is hosting the Shhh! It's a Secret Blogfest! Linkage is here. Go check out all the entries, and make sure to comment, obsess over, and occassionally stalk the authors for the rest of your life because they're ultra-awesome.
My entry is on the poetic side. Here goes:
Lie behind the cover of a book.
Under the sink.
In fresh-cleaned laundry.
Lurk in the hallway at midnight.
Hide in a closed casket.
A psychologist’s thoughts.
In the slaughterhouse and unprotected sex.
Secrets are whispers.
They live under the layers of hair, skull, and cortex, down the rabbit hole called Mind.
Secrets were born in the womb of the universe. Its father, Time, and its mother, Future.
The withheld handshake. The tears not shed.
Blink, and the truth tightens its cloak.
Why humans think, and talk, and walk.
Secrets are born without vocal chords, operators of the dream carousel we ride in our sleep.
In the mirror, secrets are who we want to be, who we’re afraid we are. All that is Not Us.
Speak, and secrets die.
Listen, and secrets become trust.