“Promise you won’t tell anyone,” they whisper, like secrecy is a gift that can be given.
But the moment the words leave their lips, the promise is broken.
They couldn’t hold it, the weight of their own truth, so they hand it to me, expecting my trust stronger, my lips tighter, my morals straight like a ruler.
Is a secret ever truly kept, or is it just passed along, like contraband in the dark, each new keeper asked to guard what the last one couldn’t?
Ah your comment reminds me of some quote dont remember from where… (book probably) that two people can only keep a secret if one of them is dead… or is it both dead haha depending on one’s level of trust in the human condition….
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