It’s not a song or a lyric,
Neither a conversation nor a snippet.
It’s nothing grave,
It’s nothing embarrassing.
It’s just a little secret I keep from you,
A secret I keep from me too.
It’s the story I cannot say,
Even though it’s something you want said.
It’s a tale, let’s state,
A secret that controls my imagination.
Still, it’s a secret I cannot give away,
Lest you wish I rue my day.
A tricky secret it is,
that keeps rattling in my mind.
I hold this secret;
But when I want, I can leave it behind.