The quiet hum of solitude,
an enormity where my unsaid thoughts
find no echo.
Freedom here, independent
from the knowing glance.

There is also a peculiar refuge in
being gently misinterpreted,
a shield from the sharper outline
of flawless understanding.

I realize that, upon seeing me,
upon mapping those winding roads
of my heart,
do they indeed not hold a key?
Do they not lay claim to those wild,
unbroken spaces
that I keep even from myself?

To be known is a gilded cage,
Where bars of love,
glinting bright,
still keep an aching heart.

So I walk at these edges,
hugging the immense loneliness
and the soft oblivion
of not being quite seen.
My soul breathes here,
not bothered,
free to live.