Citatepedia^®.com

Secrets

I told her all my secrets.

Once started they came out almost by themselves and she acted so enchanted it was easy to just keep going on and on.

I told her about my first kiss, about my stealing grapes from the grocery store, one grape, is all it was, but I never forgot taking it. I told her about the time I told a lie to make myself seem more important than I was.

I had never been to Russia. But I said I did to impress my friends. I told her of times I had been quiet when I should have spoken up, of that moment of cowardice when I should have helped my friend when the gang caught us. I didn't help. I ran and they caught him. I didn't go back to help.

I revealed what I think about at night when I am going to sleep, my little vanities and self-deceptions because they seem harmless. I told her about the little mean things I've done and the day I learned that you could lie if it was small one and it kept someone from feeling hurt; of the secret anxieties i felt and the loves I lost and never knew why, of how I worry about being in shape all the time and the times in my twenties when I looked everywhere in faces on the street, in magazines, among strangers asking myself are you The One? I told her that quest never ended-I simply shortened the voyage because long quests can be tiring.

I told her of my secret desire to impress her by telling her my secrets; no pretending to tell her secrets so as to get her to tell me her secrets and this was my ultimate secret which, of course was no secret at all, since I told.

She laughed saying 'I know but the gesture, I thought was sweet.'

So, I said, 'Do you have pretend secrets for me? ' 'Sure, ' she said, 'but I will mix in the telling some real ones, like you did, and we can then both guess which ones were true. A little mystery never hurt anyone.'

So she began to reciprocate tellling me her first kiss was through a screen door and her mother asked what was wrong with her lips, about never realizing until she was ten that it went in... there.. About the shock of all of it. About the time she saw her mother and dad doing it. She told me about the first time which was very very short, and the boy who was afraid and fumbly. About her first push-em-bra and lace underthings she bought at Victoria's Secret and the party where some one felt her up in the dark and she let him. About her belief that she had lived in some previous life and remembered bits and pieces of it.

About how she thought when getting her period that she was dying and didn't tell anyone until her mother discovered the blood. Her first boy friend who was sweet and a virgin and so was she. She thought you could get pregnant from tonguing when kissing; about her first O and how it scared her; how she looked in the mirror afterwards to she if she had changed; about how scared she was when it came time to deliver the baby.

We talked for hours, mostly about the secrets but ultimately we started to share dreams. She wanted to be a ballerina but had to give it up. I wanted to be a sports star, but too short. We share dreams gains and lost, mostly lost, given up for a good job or the quest for one or for family and kids.

From that first 'she called my number by mistake call' we call once a year, in secret of course, and share some more. We've never met. Don't need to. I already know all her secrets and she knows mine.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!