Come Now Everyone Keeps A Little Back Unsaid Poem by Mark Heathcote

Hands cupped, clenched, brooding in silence
Curdle; make buttermilk of your heart.
When anger beats its drum, your souls
In mortal shock, she wants only to depart.

Every face has a story, a page to scan and read.
Do you think you know me well—you don't?
You don't know every chapter and verse.
Do you believe you've been misled?

Do you believe you've been coerced?
Do you think you know me well enough; you don't.
Does a leopard drop all her spots?
Free-rent: does a spider give up her web?

Something's better left in the darkness with God.
Come now, everyone keeps a little back unsaid:
Do you think you know me well enough; you don't.
Don't all ripe apricots have a pit, a stone?
Just be sure when you eat me.
You eat me whole.