My dear 'therapist friend,'
Always there for everyone,
Providing comfort and warmth.
Your arms around my torso feel like a heavy yet welcoming blanket.

My dear,
You’re always helping others, but
Do you ever think of yourself?
My friend, you barely do.

I can see it in your eyes,
The pain you try to veil with a smile.
"I am okay" is the phrase you keep reciting—
My dear, please.

So I texted you,
Blurting out how I know you’re not okay.
I know you’ll deny it,
I know you have all those tricks up your sleeve.
You can fool anyone, but not me.

Lay your head in my lap,
Let me hear the melodious sound of your voice.
Rant to me—every single bit,
I’m all ears;
I love how your plump lips pucker and move.

Tell me more, dear.
Use me as your soothing balm.
Even therapists need therapy,
So don’t neglect yourself—
You’re valid too.
I love you, dear 'therapist friend.'
© Daniel Loï