Poem: Collectors of Secrets

Collectors of Secrets

They carry well folded packets
filled with them: secrets, so many,
any secret.  It does not matter
so long as they can have it
and no one else does,
all they will do is
shove them down to the bottoms
iof their pockets, pretend to forget
what is there, beneath keys and wallets,
wreathed in lint and dust.
They leave them
to wrinkle and crease,
until they fade, turn brittle,
still there, but 
even touching it
would break it apart
before it could be held upmost,
even light would destroy it..
The secrets they keep are lost,
are secrets even
from those who carry them.

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