I keep secrets locked under my tongue,
hidden whispers that only I can hear.
They are the spout from which an ocean pours
from my eyes at midnight, when the sky
as well as my heart and mind
is closed dark like a box lid.
Dark and dusty like my box of memories,
that only recently has seen daylight and felt
the touch of a finger against its fragile contents.
And it felt more than a finger but as well a tear,
for I keep secrets locked under my tongue
and hidden in a cardboard box.