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.