as i kneel i watch You longingly start to take it off sliding your thick finger as it rubs against the tongue under the lace You pull it hard so hard all the while taking good care lace whipping quickly against the hide through the holes making that sound my mouth watering You slide it off i slide it off and reveal fresh skin and i bathe You with my tongue
I had secret. Though only a few people knew about it, it was a secret. The deep, dark, shameful kind of secret. The kind that people gossip about. Make up scenarios as if they were there. And that if they were in your shoes, they could “never” do something like that. The kind that they make bad TV movies about. The best kind of secret, as far as I am concerned, if you’re gonna have one.
I was in a situation recently where the secret was exposed, by me, fresh, quick and unexpected. Like, in those first seconds when you slice your finger. At first, you see that you cut it. But everything is fine. And then the blood spills. Your head spins a little. And then the stinging reality kicks in. And then you realize “oh shit, I cut myself open”.
I was exposed.
It makes me wonder, why do we hold secrets? They are not always the result of ill intent, are they? They are kept and protected. And some are kept to protect. Our pride. Our jobs. Our lovers. Our friends. Our selves. Our needs.
I chose to participate in something that could be considered unconscionable. Something that we are taught not to do. That it is bad. Something that, like my mother used to say, “you just don’t do”.
Mention to anyone you have a secret, and you will most likely capture their attention. Quickly. Undivided. And then there is the burden of holding that secret that comes flooding in. It can weigh an indescribable amount. And you are stuck with it. Unless you betray someone that trust of keeping that secret. And suddenly, two secrets exist. It can be endless secret cycle.
To be clear, I was at a party where we playing some games that involved asking questions of one another. I was asked a simple question. And I shocked myself as the words poured out of my mouth, like that blood from a cut. I was surrounded by people who were said they would be supportive and promised not to judge.
I suppose I could have stopped myself. I suppose I could have lied. I suppose I could have continued holding my secret close. Guarding it. But I chose not to. Not this time.
I was in the moment. Answering a simple question. I realized, I was tired of lying about it. So the words fell out. I spilled the beans.
I swear I had an out-of-body moment where I could see myself talking. Surrounded. But open. Being honest. Yet cautious. To own my own secret. Acknowledge my actions. Out loud. In my words. With no more excuses. But only to explain the secret itself.
I did not justify the secret. And those people did not judge. At least they did not express it. Unless, how they really felt about my secret became their own …..secret.
My secret is no longer mine to harbor. It belongs to no one. It is out there.