Name it.
It's on the tip of your tongue.
don't worry I won't tell. I'll keep your secret.
I'll help you solve the riddle. well, the old ones are white. the young ones are a raw pink. and the babies are blood red. all in different directions. road maps. showing roads, streets, alleys, and avenues of pain. hidden well and undiscovered. well almost. but it's ok everything can be blamed on the cat or maybe just extreme klutziness. this is the first and last time.......that someone will find out. Locked away with a plain key. one that will never be beautiful or extraordinary never hung on a delicate chain for everyone to see. keep yourself close and your pain closer

Little blue, little blue.
Picked up in the night.
3am may be black but

8 is sure bright.

When I read a love poem
from even long, long ago
I imagine that they are from you
and the urge to kiss you becomes so great
that I feel I could reach into the fabric of the world
and make you come to me.
And when that urge
is denied
it breaks me so,
but ah!
I love you!
I love the crinkles in your eyes when you smile!
And the gray just starting in your hair!