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We carry each other's secrets Like illegal weapons Hidden in our jacket pockets Close to our hearts And into the backs of belt loops Close to our most private of parts. Our cold, metal protections are always loaded With bullets made of confessions, A clip filled with jealousy, And a gun powder residue mixed with resentment That we can never rub off, Marking one of us guilty. I know if my gun were exposed You'd quietly untuck the back of my shirt — But more to protect yourself

Like cold butter, I was always meant To be softened – Whether by time Or warmth Or being left out too long. I was always meant To be part of something better Something bigger – Not a standalone and salty ingredient.   And you – You were never meant to be alone.   Like flour, You’re meant to be mixed in And cling to my stickiness. Together, we are the foundation For the perfect pastry.     You always did like cake.

When you became a desert, I was your monsoon. When you were dry farmland, I was the downpour Your crops thirsted for. When your grass got a little greener, I became a sprinkler, My tsch, tsch, tsch sounds Nourishing your soil. When you began thriving, Needing someone to cut your lush lawn I became a mist so fine I was barely perceptible. So I hang back, Clung thick to the clouds, Waiting for the time you need me again. Until then, I'll play the part of mirage — Looking like I