She is heavy with keeping secrets
Mother told her angels die when you lie
So she must tend their tiny graves
Amongst so many other atrocities
He was blind to her need for it
That wish she could never express
Which now comes to her in excess
Little hopes and dreams exploded
Along fault lines in the skin
A finger tips touch, a gentle kiss
A strangers breath on her neck
She wishes she had been more aware
Of the nature of the task
So she might not have married
The first boy who asked
Too late now for regrets
Too many angels to be buried
© shaun patrick green 2012
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