Secret

You held it, that secret,
as if your life depended on it,
kept it buried beneath
your idea of masculinity.
By convincing the world,
you hoped to convince yourself.

You hated it, that secret,
a stain on your memory,
so you gave up your identity,
molding your life after theirs,
a complex puzzle
yet the heart refused to fit.

You feared it, that secret,
until you could no longer hold it.
It grew in the dark, ivy twisting
even without your nurturing.
You sought therapy—
you were bursting at the seams.

You spoke it, that secret.
It was time to confront it.
Some people surprised you,
and some did not, but
you found that life is worth living
if you’re living it as yourself.