The Shadow People

We swallow unspoken words

Like moldy bread,

The secrets eat us from the inside

Until parts of our bodies dislodge and

Blow into the wind.

I'll never tell you that I don't love you.

You'll never tell me that you lost yourself

Somewhere along Highway One,

Your heart hanging from the tree limbs

Overlooking the Pacific.

We used to feel so invincible

That phrases tumbled from our tongues,

Overt and pregnant with promises.

Now we have to look for

Ourselves in the cracks

And crevices of crumbling landmarks.

We used to feel so significant

That our shadows could have

Been painted on postage stamps.

Now we have to press

Our fingers to our faces

Just to be certain We still exist.