No, you won’t see the intimacies. I won’t confess how I cower in fear when I dwell in the cross’ shadow.

No, you won’t know about the near-fight. You won’t see me plunge through a hallway filled ten-deep with high-schoolers to reach the combatants. Or how I witness a lone security aid block one would-be fighter from another. Or how I fail to disperse the on-lookers.

Or how long before other staff arrive.

No, you won’t witness my doubts. Keep seeing blossoms fall. Keep hearing the roar of rushing waterfalls.

morning drive

all the temptations

I ignore