" The secret tugs at my sleeve.
A child looking for attention.
It is not a big secret.
But it is not the only one either.
“Strength in numbers” they say.
For they are many.
Many little things that – together –
weigh tonnes.
And take up space.
And are quite noisy.
The way only a lot of whispers can make noise.
And they follow me.
Little secrets
of omission, desire,
and denial.
Of indulgence, hedonism,
and exploration.
Of peeves, passion,
and deep-seated fear.
Little secrets
of despair
and
disrepair
and
prohibited thoroughfare. "

― , Years: a book of tiny poetry