I know how it is. Darkness
seems more honest than daylight,
when we shuffle our hearts
to the bottom of the stack,
brew coffee, match socks, clock in.
If I tell you my happiness
I must be leaving something out.
So I write to you of griefs,
nakedly. But while you are
licking their salt from your lips,
somewhere that you are not looking
a songbird is taking a breath,opening its mouth to sing.