No one really knows
what lives beneath someone’s words.
Even when a writer speaks—
sometimes,
it’s merely to silence the endless questions.

For in the end,
life doesn’t require a constant exchange
of questions and answers.

She is a depth
that does not wish to be fathomed.
She is a secret—
ours to hold.
Let it remain just that.

Some names
are poems
we never finish writing.