i do not open up like a paper flower,
i am not an open book.
you will never run your fingers over my soul
and feel my truth spelled out in braille.

i am a lock box that never tells.

each part of me i give to you
is a technical wonder,
a drafted wisp of little consequece
and even less use

03/21/2012

Author's Note: unfinished

Posted on 03/22/2012
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens