Why All the Secrecy

Hidden phones, Locked with passwords to hide the secrets from the love no longer here.

Why All the Secrecy

Sneaky behavior—
like footsteps that know
they shouldn’t be heard.

Hiding phones
face down on tables,
screens dimmed too quickly,
thumbs moving in shadows
when you think I’m not looking.

Why all the secrecy?

Why the sudden need
for privacy
where there was once openness?
Why the flinch
when I walk into the room?
Why the locked doors
on something that was supposed
to be ours?

Trust doesn’t tremble.
It doesn’t clear its history
or take calls outside
under the excuse of air.

It doesn’t guard passwords
like they’re sacred vows
whispered to someone else.

Secrecy has a smell—
metallic and sharp.
It lingers in silence,
in half-answers,
in eyes that won’t quite meet mine.

And I keep asking myself
what truth requires
so much hiding.

Because love
does not need
to be hidden.