Holding Back
With you, this veil spreads
across my face like ice.
Cheeks stiffen, aching
lips pressed together
white as lies.
I hold back words so
they are cooled, blank,
before I free them.
Alone, when I dance,
face soft and my heart burns
in my cheeks; pure
gold, yellow, red —
why can’t I show you this?
Copyright © Rebecca Streets | Year Posted 2021
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