Incomplete

Oh to write a poem,
To let one's feelings out,
A way to chain emotions,
Put them in a cage for all to see
But fling a veil over the bars
So they might look close and strain their eyes
For only those who know the secret of the veil,
Only those may peer through and see.
Though the artist of these emotions
And the poem that cages them stands by,
Ringing her hands as she scans the field of spectators,
She finds him not.
The air beside her remains unfilled,
A breeze through empty space that
Teases the edge of the veil;
Her hand shoots out and presses down
The words that wind around the secret,
If the wind lifts them up the bars will melt as well
And leave the topic plain, unhidden, revealed.
Eyes unfocus over the crowd,
Avoiding all those focused on her
For only one pair matters
But as of yet they have not met hers.
Tight jaw and stiffened lips,
Empty air where empty air should not be,
And whisper wind through the veil and the bars
To the heart of the matter
That's hidden from all
By the poem.