They think I am the keeper.

The one who hears the whispers,
the confessions breathed into the dark,
the things people swear never happened.

And I hold them.
Every one.

But the crueler truth
is that I am not only the vault.

I am the thing hidden inside it.

The name never spoken in daylight.
The life that must disappear
when morning comes.

I exist only in shadows,
in locked rooms,
in the spaces between someone’s truth
and the life they show the world.

I keep the secrets.

Because I am one.

© 2026 Wynter Rayne. All rights reserved.