Wednesday, January 16, 2013


Polished, cherished, warm and bursting fresh and green again my lips. I covet and hoard them – I savour their teasing tangy sweet taste on my tongue, feeling them click against my closed teeth, stopping their escape.

There are few greater feelings than being trusted with another’s precious secret, with a knowing of them that others don’t have. And even fewer bitter feelings than having your secrets so devalued that they’re flung about.

The problem with secrets is that once they are spent they cannot be gotten back. Once the trust of them us shattered, it cannot be repaired. The taste and pleasure of them is all in the keeping.

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