Through cracks in the wall not of your creation, I glimpse you with quiet consideration. Not built by your hands, yet still it remains, a structure between us, silent with strain. And still, your words manage to slip through, Fragments of thought, both tender and true. Thank you for letting me see what you show, The parts of yourself you quietly stow. What you have shared, I hold with care, Not out of duty, but reverent air. Your secrets, like relics, I cradle inside, Not to uncover, but simply to bide.
