We lead this secret life, he and I, in the silence of frustrated looks and unspoken pain. In hurt that I can not verbalize, in tears that I do not dare to cry. Each wall of our home, holding in the air we breath these feelings out in, allowing it to settle on the surfaces of our house, like flowers on a tomb. And that's what this place is. It's where our secret comes to die, everyday, to be reborn in new hurt tomorrow.
Somedays, the secret is what binds us together. Our fingers intertwining, as if the lines of the infinity symbol could be drawn within them. Our secret nestles between our interlocking digits, held tightly, securely, unable to escape from them. Our infinity, drawn with our tightly clasped hands, appears to stretch out in front of us. There is no weight we cannot carry, no burden that we cannot shoulder, no boulder in the road that cannot be climbed, when we are bound in this way.
Somedays, like today, this secret, this life that no one is allowed to see, is what will tear us apart in the end. The secret is too volatile to contain, to fragile to exist silently in the walls of our house. It is like a vapor that fills our lungs and betrays our breaths as it leaks out of the sealed windows.
It is a house of cards build solely out of kings. A single breath will take it down, but it will not be the queen that suffers. So, I must stand by, keeping the secret, holding in the heartbreak of being forgotten again, of being an afterthought in the kings day, crushed in silence, holding my breath, so that the house of cards we have build... The secret life we lead, remains standing.
Somedays, the secret is what binds us together. Our fingers intertwining, as if the lines of the infinity symbol could be drawn within them. Our secret nestles between our interlocking digits, held tightly, securely, unable to escape from them. Our infinity, drawn with our tightly clasped hands, appears to stretch out in front of us. There is no weight we cannot carry, no burden that we cannot shoulder, no boulder in the road that cannot be climbed, when we are bound in this way.
Somedays, like today, this secret, this life that no one is allowed to see, is what will tear us apart in the end. The secret is too volatile to contain, to fragile to exist silently in the walls of our house. It is like a vapor that fills our lungs and betrays our breaths as it leaks out of the sealed windows.
It is a house of cards build solely out of kings. A single breath will take it down, but it will not be the queen that suffers. So, I must stand by, keeping the secret, holding in the heartbreak of being forgotten again, of being an afterthought in the kings day, crushed in silence, holding my breath, so that the house of cards we have build... The secret life we lead, remains standing.
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