Locks of the true unknown
lifting off of me like a thrown.
Luscious lust of what we cannot have
yet nothing more than a tangled past
while the innocent hearts cry for a belonging to last.
It’s not only us who seem to care
It’s only the secrets we cannot seem to share.
Contemplating life’s ignorance
seeming so unsure
something hidden inside.
something others seem to view quite clear.
It’s the worthy good buried within
that we never have to fear.