Finest gossamer kisses
Like sheer and aged lace
Guarded secrets, hidden
Daring not to show their face
~~~
Shattering the human psyche
Destroying inner souls
Lying buried deep in hearts
Digging deeper holes
~~~
A tangled knot of words
Come drifting on the wind
A featherweight of tales
Against fair airbrushed skin
~~~
Perhaps the nightmare follows
I ask “well, who am I?”
The dreams, they closely follow
The catcher in the rye.
Ellie Thompson's World 
I like the sound and feel of your poem, Ellie, although I’m not sure the precise interpretation of it. Long hidden secrets can definitely cause problems for us all at times, though. I could give examples, but I think I’ll hide my secrets a bit longer. 🙂
Thanks, Bun. You got the gist of my poem pretty well right – old skeletons in old closets are painful, but hey, I’m still here to ‘tell the tale’ x 🙂
I love the poem, Ellie, but I’m ashamed to say that I still haven’t read The Catcher in the Rye.
Thanks, Mick. There’s always time! 🙂 x
Well, I like your poem better than the novel. Much more to the point. 🙂
Thank you for your kind comment, Cathleen, and also for stopping by at my blog. You are very welcome here, 🙂