secret slivers under the moon

midnight mirrors the stuff long unsaid,

still lodged stubborn in my head-

and thoughts words won’t contain

creak of radiator and glint of stardust-

gives place to nurse the joys and pains,

huddled porch smells of rain and rust,

holds answers in its smells and stains.

and every insomniac can probably swear,

we know of truths simply never bared to day-

caged by shyness under the sun’s gold glare,

with every dawn, they softly slink away.

 

 

 

 

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