False fronts- not exactly a lie, more like a different version of the truth.
An uninviting mystery- less tantalizing, easier than a locked door.
Secrets carelessly stowed away with no real concern for their discovery.
A thin and vulnerable barrier from the universe, minimal protection against any advancing threat.
All it would take is one tug, one twitch of a muscle, one curious drifter, and the whole mess is revealed for any probing eye to judge.
It’s a long, velvet curtain, cascading down from ceiling to floor, regal and composed.
And peeking out at the bottom, shuffling anxiously- a pair of white toes belonging to a pair of blue high-tops belonging to a girl, waiting for the one who will tear it all down with one fell swoop.
They will say, “Ah. There you are.”
As if ending some hasty game of hide-and-seek.
One fell swoop and it’s all on display- every word, every secret thought and suppressed insight clamoring for attention.
Every breath, every scar, every regret and failure, every saltwater tear, all the footsteps and where they fell- pinned down and shoved under the microscope for the most critical of eyes.
And they will say, “Ah. There you are.”
And they will take my hand and lead me into the sunlight.