They said,
you’re doing so well.
The smile is almost real.
The laugh—
just enough
to make them think
it doesn’t ache.

I make myself small,
tidy as a crisp sheet,
smoothing the corners
of my face,
keeping my eyes low—
barely visible.

But when no one
is looking,
I grind
to a halt—
gears stripped bare,
teeth clenched,
hoping not to break.

They said,
you’re holding it
together.
And I nod—
because falling apart
was never made
to be seen.