the secret song

one sentence, a few harmless words or less, i confess; i agree with what you've said from the beginning to the end, it may have been my hand that made this mess calamitous because you were nothing more than a secret to me (for ever to be), which, in this single paragraph stands like an effigy unwrapped, and i built it up nice and tall for you to sit and stare at until it finally comes the time for us to say goodbye, but the wind shifts erased the stick the line was drawn by (in the sand, by my own hand, but then again you were nothing more than a secret to me), so by the time you read this letter i'll be half way to the border forgetting all about you realizing this message, while i'm sleeping in the desert dreaming up the awful things you do.

post script- of all of the things i wish i could gift to you i'd choose persuasion cut in two, because i was nothing more than a secret to you, too.