The Hidden Heart And she rides the feather with her eyes, Escaping the ground in her mind, Fleeing the sound of her own voice, Repeating empty, boring lies. And she sighs as Veronica passes by, Her scent, her shape, her smile, Pretending friendship will satisfy, Aching with unrequited desires. And she locks the door to her room. Alone is better than consumed. This world is … Continue reading The Hidden Heart, a poem