Alfeo Campagna

Tell me I’m wrong like I don’t know I come back just to let time go You’re the secret I won’t outgrow You’re the only one who needs to know I’ll keep you as my dirty little secret Say a word and you’re a regret My dirty little secret— Who needs to know? @Obessedwithhim🫧 (Based on song; Dirty little secret) #Alfeo's prepective I already know what I did wrong. I don’t need you to say it, but you do anyway. “Why do you keep coming back?” I don’t answer right away. I never do. I just show up again—same place, same hour—pretending this is accidental. As if I didn’t rehearse it in my head all day. As if I’m not wasting time on purpose. “I don’t know,” I say. That’s a lie. I know exactly why. You ask me what I’ve thrown away. I tell you nothing. Another lie. You talk about the things you won’t play anymore—games, roles, expectations. I nod like I understand, like I’m not still playing one myself. The worst one. The quiet one. “Does anyone know?” you ask. “No,” I say too quickly. “Good,” you say. And just like that, we agree without shaking hands. I keep you small. Hidden. Folded into the parts of my life no one looks at too closely. I tell myself it’s for your protection. Or mine. The difference blurs. “If anyone finds out,” I say, “it ruins everything.” “Everything?” you repeat. I don’t answer. Because I don’t know what everything means anymore—us, or the version of myself I’m still pretending to be. Sometimes I catch the way you look at me when I’m not watching. Like you’re waiting for me to choose something. Like you already know I won’t. “You’re thinking again,” you say. “I always am.” There are things I don’t tell you. Thoughts that press against my skull at night. Guilt that doesn’t sleep when I do. I swear I’ve buried it all deep enough—but it keeps breathing under the dirt. “This can’t last,” you say softly. “I know.”