There's no masquerade ball
anywhere close, but I'm still
wearing this mask, possibly
a permanent part of me.

I'm used to its ever-lingering
presence, I'm only really ever
aware of my disguise in my darkest hours.

The day you walked into my life,
which I'm still determining if
it was a blessing or misfortune,
I discovered a new depth of feelings
I never knew before.

Unfortunately, it never stopped there.

It got to the point where I
had to stop by Party City
and buy one of those fancy
Halloween-type masks.
I wasn't ready to expose myself
and reveal my desire for you.

Not yet, anyways.

As I grew closer to you, I tightened
my grip on the cloak of
concealment, I was fearful
you would discover my secret.

I was happy with you not knowing,
but still I longed.

Eventually, the constant clinging
to my disguise wore me out,
and it fell from my grasp.
It felt good not to be putting
on a show anymore,
so I let it fall to the ground
with a soft, satisfying thud.

I took a step over it, hoping to
never see it again.

It didn't take you very long
to reject my feelings.
I retraced my steps as fast as I could,
desperately trying to find that mask.

After I wiped away what
seemed to be a few thousand
tears, I placed the mask
back over my feelings.

I smiled and laughed when
you could see, but
sobbed and painfully dreamed of
you behind that mask.

And so I've been this way ever since.

If only Party City's return policy
lasted long than thirty days.