I’ve wanted a secret box for as far back
as I can remember.
One of those book-cloaked boxes that can
hide in plain sight.
An unsuspecting little book you would never
think to crack.
A place to whisper and then lock away what
wasn’t allowed.
But I never found my little secret box, so
I became one.
In a world of black and white, I learned that
boring was safe.
And so I carefully locked my tender and wild
rainbow-soul away.
Filed under: LGBTQA, Poetry
