Whispering Secrets: Late night poetry

She was the secret
he whispered to the wind
and to the horses he rode.

He whispered her name
in the hallways he walked through,
and spoke of her in metaphors
to the ones that crossed his path.

He poured her through the tips
of his fingers on the keyboard
as he created her into the character
he wanted her to be.

He wondered if she ever did the same.

(The first stanza was originally a Haiku I wrote a few weeks ago).

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