they are
of no consequence,
the little secrets
i hoard cupped
in jealous hands
because
when given the opportunity
to use those self-
same hands to bring you close, i
absently tuck them away
like old receipts
inside the tight back
pocket of my careworn jeans,
finding them only
incidentally
weeks later, crumpled
and incomprehensible
in the wash.
Our secrets are always washed away with time, sad and tragic yet hopeful in your words to survive and continue.
Thanks
Bindo