Hiding feels good.
You cannot see me.
You cannot read
What I have not said.
You cannot go to bed
And reflect on the person you just met.
Because I am hid,
I am silent as the dead.
I like being hid.
It’s safe in the unknown.
It’s comforting being alone,
And not waiting by a phone.
Not waiting for an invitation.
Not waiting for a smile.
Just fading like highway lines,
Mile after mile.
I like being cloaked.
Old furniture under sheets.
Stored away in an attic
Where living eyes barely seek.
Dull light warms my body.
Attic dust I only trust.
Because it is there with me,
Where humans barely fuss.
Hiding is my joy.
But my problem is that I glow.
I radiate like the sun
Wherever I choose to go.
So when you see me laughing,
Having fun and shaking hands.
Just know I’d rather hide away
In a far away land.
Check out my author page at http://www.mdelspoetry.com
the bloom 