In the hallways, we shared stories
of the darkness, passed folded
slips of paper
palm to palm, like contraband
secret payment for the ticket
to get in
We hid in corners, trading
tales and malcontent,
pound for pound, tracing scars and
licking salt
away from skin
The cracks behind the wall
bled our secrets through.
We drowned our boundaries in coffee, sat up until
our eyes bled red and the words
we spoke were smooth
against our tongues
The moon outside the window
was a spotlight
shining in.
April Fox 
Leave a comment