Track Eleven

You are so secret
In your disease.
A mime trapped
In an invisible box.
I’d break you out
If I could.
(But I’ve got to leave it up to you.)
The nerve center
Of my emotional core
Keeps growing
And pulsing;
With nowhere to go.
So I’m slowly filling notebooks
With your name only.
It’s enough to break you down.
One day I might be brave enough
To show you.

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