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This user is private.

This user has drawn a curtain across their window.

As you stand across the street trying to look in.

As if those silhouettes on that silk cloth would give away the plot line to their lives.

Like a shadow puppet show.

This user is private.

This user is reading a book on the subway with a cover on it.

Maybe you wanted to start a conversation.

Now you have to talk with your voice a little lower.

Because you won't disturb a reader.

Not without their book.

This user is private.

This user is a fortress.

You have to cross the moat. Please wait.

Your request to follow is pending as the drawbridge waits to be lowered.

Who knows what's inside?

But they built a fortress to protect it.

This user is private.

They're a smile without a stare in the eyes.

They're the stewards at a wedding. They won't show up in pictures.

But you won't forget, will you?

This user is private.

A hint of a shoulder blade seen through a dress.

A glance held over the glass from which you drink at a nameless party.

But not faceless.

This user is private.

Until they choose to open up.

Like a flower or love.

Like a box in a box in a box.

With who knows what inside?

That's a mystery left to you.

Because after all.

This user is private.

For you.

For now.

For you.