A Thousand Tiny Pieces

Her grief did not take the shape
Of other people’s.
She did not cry.
Messy tears did not trace mascara tracks
Down a drawn face.
Sleepless nights
Did not precede uneaten breakfasts.
She did not blow out friends,
Or break things.
Her house was neat,
Bills paid,
A smile on her made-up face.
They could not understand
How she carried on.
So strong!
They said
Voices warm with admiration.
She found acting easy.
She was broken;
A thousand tiny pieces,
Balanced together each day
To fool the world.
All they ever saw
Was a too perfect whole.

This entry was posted in Death, Emotions, Friendship, Relationships and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A Thousand Tiny Pieces

  1. jfb57 says:

    So sad. I know someone like that who wouldn’t let anyone see.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. chattinatti says:

    Ah yes…I know this woman too. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. J says:

    I’m guilty of being this way. I’m learning 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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