The Truth

I have mixed feelings about keeping honest feelings to oneself.
Hide it. Bury it. Put it on the shelf.
But lately and sometime just before-
the surface carries with it
something starting to bore
into
the walls constructed, quite poor.

A sliver of truth is starting to peek
and piquing your interest is not what I seek;
but shining a light on what is known and hidden
might bring some good to a place, once pain-ridden.

So here it is, in all its glory-
a sincerely honest, non-fiction story
without hope, agenda or worry...

Once upon a time
a year or so ago
a chord was struck
somewhere below
the surface and skin
of a lass, who was akin
to a lad's pain in song
and without intent, he got in.

For her, began a timeline
of what would become
an unexpected connection
with a continuous hum.

The way he sees
The way he shows
who is he in words and notes.
Letters and cardboard
could never be forward
but with it brought a leak of his soul
she can help but go towards.

There's been only a few

exchanges of words

but there's somehow an ease
in how he sees
where she is and where she's been-
Yet, barriers surround this feeling within.

For her and for him
it won't be easy to swim-
and perhaps there's not even a need,
as these things can often be one-sided, indeed.

So do what you will with this truth told in verse,
at least now it's unlocked and finally disbursed-
allowed to roam free and land where it can see
what it wants
and
what it can be.