i woke
with a poem
in my head
that i do not
feel like sharing
with a name
on my tongue
i have been
silently whispering
and a craving
of which
i cannot
define

some days
are like this
i clamp down
on my secrets
because i fear
someone
may steal them

or
laugh at them
and that feels
like an insult more
than i can handle
in my eggshell
state

hold me,
my darling
in my silent whimsy
knowing that
i love you
just the same
whether
the words bleed
or gently weep

to you, i
entrust
this hoarde
of unmentionable
intent

i will write
the poem
on your palm
with kisses and breath
that trace
the delicate lines

so you can
keep me safe