Like little black folders,
We hide with decency.
The ones we often love,
Are kept in secrecy.
Not even our closest friends,
Know the feelings we possess.
Or the overwhelming emotions,
We always fail to suppress.
There is no one out there,
To say who is just a friend.
So we do the ever-dangerous,
Allowing our minds to pretend.
"What might be",
"If only I knew".
We have a plan in mind,
But rarely pursue.
I've learned that's just life,
A part that we can't rid.
We have to learn to live,
With the love that is forbid.
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