'pearls of wisdom', he said.

maybe you see a glimmer of your former self in me
you might not tell me.
maybe i see a glimmer of his former self in you
i might not tell you
secrets we all keep, in some recess of our bodies, that collect like rough stones waiting to be polished, exposed, made light and righteous to the world.
but not yet,
quite.
'pearls of wisdom', you said.
'you don't know such things', you said.
'i don't know', i said.