a lion prowls around under the big top of my mouth, pacing back and forth behind the bars of my teeth it rears its giant head and purrs,
rumble in the circus, afraid of the whip-crack of a scar, licking its paws to clean the wounds of words better left unsaid, this silence before the show hangs heavy between us. and I feel this lion, part of me, captive yet untameable, secret yet a spectacle, what a wonder it is how much time you can spend with a person and how little you can know about them - how many streets we've walked shoulder to shoulder, how many sunrises and sunsets we've watched from the front steps of the same porch, how many silent afternoons we've spent in front of a fireplace with a book and a mug of tea, how many times I've fallen asleep in the passenger seat of your car on a long drive, how many times we've made breakfast and lunch and dinner together, in this tiny kitchen, and in the crowded space when your shoulder brushes mine I feel my jaws ache with the weight of grievances left ungrieved. this lion wants to bite the hand that feeds it. and don't think for a moment that I don't know what these clowns and acrobats and monkeys have to say, I hear everything when the ringmaster turns his back. I do not like being spoken about in the third person. it must be fitting - you keep me, I am your jungle creature, your third world and your third act, exotic, this wild curiosity of mine. I was there when your secrets were first whispered; I will be there when they finally are roared.
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About MeHi! I'm Andrea. I really like words. Categories
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