You'll never
be known
if you're always hiding.
Be exposed.

green water glistening
in puddles on the pavement

the smell of sawdust
and coffee beans

muffled laughter
behind the curtains

clinging of pots and pans
a dinner being made

TV news and weather report
'Should i carry an umbrella tomorrow?'

a bedtime story
and fresh fluffy pillows

silvery moonshine
on the walls

the only sound is made
by a dripping tap
and the ink stains
on my fingers

i
siphon
my pain
my
grief
and
anger
onto these
pages
in little
starts
and
spurts
but still
there is
this awful
bittersweet
taste
left
lingering
upon
my
muted
tongue