Secrets

Secrets the color of bones, line the core of me the color of heavy marrow, they sustain me. My secrets are the color of the hollow crevice within me. My secrets are the shade of the ghosts I exhale with every breath; haunting a world I’ve frozen in place; A world laced with life that never warms. My secrets are the color of the void, the color of the hollowed soul white as the snow or bones, a surface waiting for the mark, a space with so much potential to take shape to take defining shades. My secrets are the sound of my fears, shushed to whispers, exhaled like ghosts. And each spectre shapes me, each silent breath colors me.