In words I am laid bare for all to see
though often more than I would mean to be.
The truths sneak out in thought and crafted phrase,
I hope to hide my soul in verbal haze.

I look between the lines and lose the key
that locked the parts away I would not see.
I’m tangled in the syllable divide,
no hidden meaning ever on my side.

In punctuated periodic ends,
The parenthetic mysteries abound.
I duck below the message that it sends,
Pronounced alive in melody of sound.

working on iambic pentameter…I hope 🙂

* evidently, it is not iambic but it is rhyming quatrain composed in decasyllable…back to school!