ONE OF THOSE THINGS

I love a boy
who loves me
and it is our secret.
One of those tight-lipped
magical things, those unspoken
meet me in the morning, let me
clutch your hand behind blind eyes,
only letting go when a twig snaps
kinds of things. One of those
classified, juvenile, underground things,
those blushing, clandestine, hush-hush things–
I love a boy under wraps,
under cover of both darkness and lightness,
and it is our secret.
Deception it is, we share the language
of fooling the world.
But he does it so well,
a master of hiding the loudest thing
we have ever known, loving like mimes,
like troublemaking children, like robbers.

I love a boy
who loves me
and it is our secret.

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