Responsibilities, still ...

Happiness is what i feel -
at a sight on which my thoughts had long been filled ...
it's not important what he thinks i feel -
but what misery that sight had healed,
neither is it important that he knows what i feel -
'coz by that sight i had nothing revealed ...
I suppose he cares not how i feel -
well? ill? or caring, still ...?
it's not what i may feel -
but responsibilities, still,
that's gonna have this friendship killed -
and, in its place, numbness to instil ...
It's not what or how we may feel -
that's gonna change the deal:
though friendship has to be checked, and feelings killed,
memories will still prevail ...
so ... my thoughts i'll not reveal,
the pain i'll just conceal ...