Not Giving You Everything

You thought wrong when you think
I have given you every poem I have
Written because there are many
Sitting in my drawer collecting dust.
Although I trust your eyes and
Honest opinions, there are ones
That have not entered your hands
Because they portray my most
Inner feelings even though you have
Touched my heart. You have felt
It's heartbeat within your palms.
All my hopes and aspirations,
You have seen them across my face.
You have entered, but have not
Yet gone into the darkest parts of
My mind and spirit where my doubts
Live. That is where my demons lurk.
They hide behind open doors and
Secret passageways. You have
Knelt right beside me as I rebuilt
My garden where so many people
Have trampled and walked over
To make their way to the nearest
Exit. So no, you do not get to see
Or feel or hear or taste everything
I write because if you did, I would be
A jumbled mess and hard to read.
It is one of the many reasons why
I stay quiet. I want to keep some
Of that inner hope and mystery.