I really.

You don't know this.
For this, you shall never read.
But I like how you know.
You know, the things that I hide.
I try to hide, but you discover.
You don't know this.
But this, I like.
I like it allot.
For once, no hiding.
Being bare.
In the open.




Nothing to hide.


If only you knew that I liked being helpless and that you knew what I was hiding.

You don't know this.