Concealed.

Excerpt of prose poetry from a free write I did.

I haven't said anything because I chose to choose my battles. I did not find that worthy of war. 

What you don't know might kill you. But what you do know will haunt you.

I am haunted.

I chose to let it go, but it has begun to consume me. All of the things that I kept to myself have been eating away at me like worms to a decaying body. 

The love is there, but the doubt remains, perhaps hidden, behind the smiles and laughs. I laugh to conceal my pain. I laugh to show you I'm OK. I laugh to make you believe I don't know. I laugh to keep you (myself?) from letting go.

There is a beauty in concealment. It keeps things steady. I may be a wreck inside, but at least the boat we share won't rock from the violent waves of my doubt and disapproval.