I run through the crowd,
gasping,
grabbing,
pulling at hems,
trying to get someone's attention.

In my ears,
I scream,
but to the crowd
it is only a whisper.
Barely a glance
is cast my way.

I want someone to
notice the turmoil
underneath the
careful blank slate
of my face.

I want them to see
through the smile,
down, down, to the
quivering lip.

See the tears
I keep back
in my empty eyes,
the heart on the sleeve
that I crumple in my hand.

Waiting for someone to see
what I'm not showing.