written by: Amanda Needham
Secret: (adj) /‘sé-krət/
1. It is whispered against my neck one night- zephyr light, a ghost that traces its way down between my breasts to get caught there and fester. Between our sweating bodies, splattered and written in the tracts of our tears. It weeps. We never mention it again.
2. You keep it for a decade. It is turning your insides tar black and runny. You never ask if I kept one too.
3. The name of every person you couldn’t love; the cries of the last woman you called by my name.
overt : it is killing you. (It is killing me.)