The feeling of holding yourself together, so no one sees you falling apart.
Probably needed a hug,
but she stayed quiet.
She didn’t want to make a sound,
didn’t want to be a burden,
didn’t want to take up space
in someone else’s warmth.
She folded her arms around herself
and called it enough.
Told her heartbeat to hush,
told her eyes to dry,
told the ache to wait its turn.
She wiped her tears
the way she always does,
careful not to let them fall too long
as if catching them early
made her look strong.
She straightened her face,
fixed the cracks with practiced smiles,
and walked back outside
like nothing in her had withered inside.
And then she stood up,
glued the pieces back together,
like nothing was wrong.
No one asked, and she didn’t tell.
That’s the quiet pact she’s made.
It’s strange how good she’s gotten,
At simply looking fine.
She walks with a smile,
a perfect illusion.
So she nodded at the world,
and carried on
like nothing was wrong.
But somewhere along the lines
a part of her whispered,
I shouldn’t have to be this brave
just to be okay.
