no secrets in an open book [poem]

I read once that
everyone has secrets
but I wonder if that’s true
I mean
what part of me is hidden
kept quiet and separate from those around me?
what stutter of my heart hasn’t been heard
by those close enough to hear it?
what memory of my past have I refused to tell?
there’s nothing
no moment or choice
or shame
that I’ve chosen to hide from any who bother
to come seeking
to ask the right questions
there’s a wild freedom in being an open book
in a world full of masks and locked doors