I ve known him for years

I’ve known him for years. 
A pale face,
A quiet grace,
And subtle lace
Of shadows in the corners of his mouth. 

It is surprising in a youth
His age.
He is a little page. 
But hints of rage
Suppressed and hidden murk not far beneath. 

His mouth is firmly set, his face is
Stern, morose.
He has a long and ugly nose. 
He sits in a stiff pose: 
The prince is not amused…

His head is crowned with a mane
Of brown curls
That girls
Would envy.  It unfurls
Onto his shoulders and falls in measured waves…

I see him every dawn when I open
My eyes
Still dazed and paralyzed,
And recognize
His face.  And wish I didn’t have to rise…

He doesn’t look like me
At all
Up there on the wall
Bathed in the light of early fall
He whiles away his days.

He never smiles or yawns.  He sits, presiding over
My bed. 
We never met.
And yet
I’ve known him for years. 
- - -
He knows me too.  To that
I swear. 
A dirty look,
A cold stare
He gives me every time I look at him. 

But I will not be fooled.  Behind the mask
Of royal disdain
And haughty non-chalance
There is a real pain
I don’t know how to explain…

The corners of his lips quiver
In a smirk. 
He thinks of me,
“Oh, what a jerk
Lies down there, on the queen-size bed.” 

A smile lights his face.  There’s nothing
But contempt. 
I’m puzzled
But wouldn’t attempt
To ask him stupid questions. 

He has a reason,
I guess. 
He must. 
But I confess
I don’t know what it is. 

I often want to meet him face to face
To ask,
To peek
Behind the mask
And find the answer. 

Alas, his silence he will keep
Forever. 
So what?
I swear
He knows me too.  He’s known me for years.