Secrets are not to be played with.
Yours, mine, ours, theirs -

Turn a stone over at your own risk, not mine
(nor my own expense),
nor anyone else's.

Prompt me to speak,
I won't if it's about a secret.
A lie, perhaps.
A yarn? Hell, yes, please!
But bury your secrets deeper than you do your dead.
Mine are deeper still.
Miners are still looking for my little diamonds,
rough as they may be.

Commonplace language
Comfortable impressions
Automatic concrete deadbolts
Stockpiled beginnings
Automatic appearance
Comfortable language
Unlock the commonplace deadbolts
Holding us concrete
In our beginning language
and stockpiled impressions
Appearances automatic

Never ask for much
But you just kept taking.
My heart kept giving
But my mind knew you were faking
When you said "This will be the last time"
But you kept on taking, hurting, using, burning.
I wanted to believe, wanted to trust you
But "too far" is just one more step toward yearning.
You took so much good, even took some bad from me
But what you left me with felt like a storm-ravaged home
Your inventory of taken things, stolen things, ruined things was huge

But what you forgot to take was my power to write this poem.