Keep

I keep you hidden,
hidden away,
away from the ink,
and it’s evil aftertaste.

I write about bad,
about bad terrible things,
because how hard is it not to
in such a horrible world.

But you’re good,
good in itself.
And I don’t want to
give you away,
away to all the words
I write about pain.

Because you have a beautiful soul,
a soul that I lack. And
you remind me
there are still beautiful,
beautiful things left,
like those freckles on the
side of your face.

So I keep you hidden,
hidden away,
and I’ll keep tossing pages
as long as you’re not on them.