Petite Poetry

I have this friend I can't let go.

He is habit, and pain,

Beauty, and vain,

He is there, he is here

He knows me.

He sees me

He looks past the lies

He sees the innermost side

He sees the pain I try to hide

But most of all

He looks at me,

Like I'm the only one in the world

Who sees past the

Habit and pain

The suffering he sees

Is the suffering he feels

The pain of covering up

What cannot be felt

The forbidden love

The unforgotten passion.

September 17, 2009