Writings

McCray Creek Trail

We’ve kept each other’s secrets like no one’s business.

Protecting each other by throwing sticks and stones at others.

Too bad for us though.

All that throwing,

and all along they were cloaking daggers.

When the first one hit your back you spilled like water.

Nothing to do now but watch you sink.

I could say what you want to hear.

But you know I won’t mean it.

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