Everything I do not know
is scribed in pages floating on street corners
of every city in the whole wide world.

Strangers know more about his love
than I do.

He cannot talk too loud or
I may hear, and I run after these verses like
live words can save my soul or
better yet, **** it.

It is the worst case scenario.
My knees hit the concrete, I am unloved.

I am a secret
one that cannot be articulated, written down
for my presence is like a funeral.

Not the birth of something, rather a death
a lack swimming internationally.

Everything I do not know is
everything that everyone else already does –
whispering more beautiful secrets.