Poem: Wolves in our Closet

13 years of memories,
I count and shovel through
Recounting your transgressions
and tallying the lies,
And the multitude of times
You looked me in the eyes
Without a hint of the dirt
Piled in your mind.

No twitch of regret,
no downcast gaze,
Just a smile and a nod,
A hand reached out
To comfort your lost sheep.

I once called you hero.
I called to you in need.
With open arms,
You held me while
I’d weep.

But in the night
Out from shadows
With twitching hands
And thumbs.

There was poison in
Your fingers And
Corrosion in your head.

For 13 years,
You had your secrets.

For 25,
I called you friend.

But for 6 months,
I’ve called you nothing,
But the wolf hiding
In sheep’s clothing.