is always hiding something
you think it’s the truth
sitting there in the corner
blinding the crowd
with the blunt edge of honesty
and the tall maleficent glare
of guilt
but the real story
is tucked in a fold
packed in a trunk
trampled down
beneath one
wrinkled knee
you tried painting over her once
sky blue skin with purple clouds
yellow elbow and dotted cheek
smoky eyes and faux striped tail
and then you started over
using camouflage and collage
picture frame and paper tchotchke
knitted throw and burnished rug
in the end
your hands
were stained with fiction
one thousand pages
you will never wash off
and you stood naked
in the shadow
of your story
.
.
A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge.
Today’s theme is secrets.
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