i wish i could see you well enough
to write a poem about you
we have walked, ate, slept, laughed,
made love,
made life,
stabbed and bandaged,
abandoned and rescued
i still feel like i know more
about a leaf or a breeze
then i know about you
is that love then
to be so deeply in love
that every day shows me
how un-knowable you are?
or is that bullshit
maybe i am so afraid
that people will find out
how bad i am
at this human thing
the best way to keep the secret
is to not say anything