Old Patterns

To see behind this mask I wear
you'd have to listen, really care
to hear the heartache that I bear
and of the reasons take your share
of how we got to here from there.

your mask, it smiles, but hearts grow cold
when traveling patterns  grown this old.
Must we repeat the ancient rhyme?
can we not  do it well  this time?

you cannot meet me where I am
it would require too far a leap
a learning curve too stark and steep
to your familiar branch you creep.
we both put on these masks we wear
and hold the thoughts we cannot share.