Secret eating....

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UNCOMFORTABLE

Fatherly obsession
With hidden love
Of secret courtyards
Stowed embarrassedly
Deep within labyrinth's lines.
For hope?
For desire?
Motives vague,
Like a bad actor playing
Out their death
Too matter of factly.
Can we just decide
What we seem to be?
Errant acting preemptively casts
Roles for which
We were born to play.
Sadness filling my throat
Gurgling at prospect
Of half expressions
And total impressions
Filling gaps
For the "what not"
I am.
Personal treachery
Only answers to one name:
Murder.
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