I didn't tell you.

I wouldn't have told you.

But you already knew, and now you're holding me close. You're trying to comfort me, trying to heal me, wishing to turn back time.

As my head is buried in your chest, I don't shed a single tear.

"It's okay," you explain to me, gently caressing my hair, pulling me in tighter.

Will you notice that you're shirt's not wet?

No.

I'm a victim that you've saved. That you've held. That you'll protect.

And I won't correct you. I'll just keep staring at you with these dead eyes until you realize that I don't care.

About you.