My secret.

poetry

Every year, when I grow older

I draw a breath

exhale a wish,

locking it away for safe keeping.

any time I witness a star dying,

burning up as it streaks across the sky

as quick as the brief streak

my mind goes to one thing

always a secret.

but now that you’re here

I speak that secret

let it be said for the first time,

fall from my lips,

as I call for your lips.

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