do you notice how my hand
trembles ever so slightly
as i hand you the evening paper?

or how i pull away
after every single touch,
even to soothe?

how my smile doesn’t quite
stretch across my face
or see the pain in my eyes?

or how my lips
scarcely part to let out
the rasp and gravel?

how much i want to scream and shout to the heavens
and kick and punch
until i see red.

don’t you notice my unhealed wounds?
or am i just that good an actress?