and again secret

and again secret

 

for the second time

this year,

i am loved,

in secret.

 

as turbines

melted never made snow angels,

leaving our sky

sad and serrated,

your whispers

were for me alone.

something of me,

lodged in your heart

as chambered woe.

 

i was always behind the curtain;

a villain

sneered by a darkened audience.

 

or hidden, like a new scar he touched speaking through,

then questioned himself when you snapped back saying it been there ages.

 

then you nearly killed me

and i moved on broken.

 

 

 

for hope,

i was nil by mouth.

fallen inside like a factory making nothing

anyone needs any longer.

 

then fire

burst through drowning,

and i dried out.

 

it was a tracksuit Sunday,

our shivering, unlit faces

shy as you cried out.

 

your marriage –

condemned from the moment the ink dried –

now awaits a paper conclusion,

your name to be returned by a sleeping court.

 

despite your resolution, your tongue

of light

and love,

i am unseen yet.

for i am alluded to, rumoured,

and again, secret.