What hides in shadows but casts none?
A secret that knows no secrets of its own,
But harbors in cool thoughts and cracks
Worlds forgotten and haunting recollections.
Waiting til silence to suffocate sane men
With the ghosts of sounds and days and hours.
Love let fallen,
Love let shattered.
Scars that run like snakes and slither under skin
Forcing sane men to toss and turn in their beds
And reach for bedside lights,
And dawn work glasses and dress for morning,
To happen down the hallway — running,
Towards or from,
A shadow too dim to perceive,
That shines against the walls at night,
From clock radio lights that do not forget or exclude
A single action of the restless sinners,
And secrets of sane men.