A friend

A friend said,
I have to write a poem,
A long one,
A happy one.
So I sat at my desk,
Took out a pen,
Wrote out a line,
Started again.
Nothing was working,
It all ended sad,
It was getting annoying,
Making me mad.
I began to think,
About this friend,
And all the anger,
Came to an end.
I thought about his smile,
His laughter,
His voice.
I thought about his kindness,
I no longer had a choice.
The words began to flow,
From mind, to hand, to paper.
Writing out these words,
I never felt safer.
I knew he would never judge me,
For the things I said.
Never make me feel stupid,
Or wish I was dead.
The more I thought,
The more I thought,
The more the realization grew.
For this friend I had feelings,
Of which I never knew,
Feelings more than friendship.
Feelings more like love.
Feeling I never thought possible,
Feelings that fit like a glove.
So the poem I was writing,
Became about him,
And how I couldn't wait,
To see him again.
To show him the poem,
I had wrote with him in mind,
But never telling it was about him,
Never crossing that line.
For fear has stopped me,
In my tracks,
I need to calm down,
Try and relax.
So I won't show you,
I'll never tell,
About the poem I wrote for you,
It showed my feelings to well.
Because as much as I love you,
As much as you care,
I can't take the feeling,
Of having you stare,
Because of the feelings,
I have confessed,
And you not sharing them,
I couldn't have our friendship messed.
As a friend you mean more,
Than a loved lost lover,
So I'll end this poem,
Knowing my secret is covered.