choke down your pretext

 

throw a line

a wiretap

dots and dashes make a ribbon

confessions are best said

gift-wrapped

 

avoid his eyes

what could be worse?

 

label me a lunatic and

lock me in the house

 

i cannot feel this in public

 

know that if i could

i would scoop out my 

fragile little brain and

let you try it on

 

see how you are scratched

on the walls?

 

feel how you destroy

objectivity?

 

then tell me now

how I might explain

love in any other way

 

than confessions at midday

and the quiet refusal

to believe the harboring 

truth

 

By Kallen Mohr

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