I'm hiding in the smile! I can do that. I hide in friendship! To burn without pain. I hide from the time that has brought us together. I hide in the familiar, it is known in the day. I hide in memories that they are past today. He hides in dreams where there is no longing. I hide from people, I don't need a court. He also hides behind the mask, holding his breath. I hide them well—the unseen truths, but in the evening alone—they shout, burn uninvited. And I am waiting for that hour when I will reveal what inside me is, where the soul wanders.
# Hiding I hide behind the curtain of my breath, behind the wall of words that will not come. The world outside moves on—I hear it still, the traffic's endless song, the sparrow's call. But here, in this small darkness of my making, I am a secret kept from my own eyes. What hunts me cannot find me in this silence; what seeks my name will call to empty air. The light knows where I am. It always does. It slides beneath the door like spilled milk, pools at my feet, reminds me I exist— that hiding is a kind of being seen. So I sit very still. I do not breathe so much as let breath move through me like wind through a house where no one lives anymore, where dust remembers what the rooms once held. They will find me. They always do. But not today. Not in this moment where I am neither here nor there, but something in between—a pause, a held note. The curtain trembles. Or perhaps I do.
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