Just stuff

The secret—
I penned it a long time ago
and even then I took my time with the words
they took so long to come
to sound right
to sound like they didn’t mean much
but deep down, I knew they did
and no matter what,
they didn’t seem fitting for it
the secret
my secret—
so I wrote it in the back of an old leather book
on the inside cover,
a book I’d written in over time
a book I’d never write in again—
I tied it closed with a green satin ribbon
and hid it in the bottom of an old box full of knick knacks and
things that weren’t important
an old tarnished locket
faded postcards
birthday cards
old bills
just stuff
and I put it high upon the shelf
and covered it with more stuff
until the entire thing looked like a shelf
of stuff
just stuff
and nothing more