Glass Rose

Blinking, blinking, blinking away watery eyes.

Gritting teeth behind a tightly closed mouth.

Taking one agonizing breath after another.

Going through the motions.

Being good at faking it through the motions.

Putting out fires because of a small piece of you that still cares how others see you.

But do you care about the reflection in the mirror?

Glaring back at you with truth and hurt.

Inhale one ragged, sluggish breath.

Repeat.

Blink away one less tear than you did yesterday.

Smile another smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and never your heart.

"Hi, how are you today?"

"Good, I'm fine and you?"

I'm lying, but maybe you are too.

Maybe we all are

But I've been fine before.

I remember it almost like it was yesterday, though it was years ago.

Blue and gray clouds, the sun peeking through, wheatgrass swaying in the wind.

Denim jeans, freshly braided hair.

Fresh cut green grass.

The smell of rain sprinkling with rays from the sun.

Damp dirt and fresh air.

Ignorant bliss and peace.

But with age comes wisdom, some knowledge crueler than others.

Hidden truths that can prick your skin too early.

Leaving you raw and angry–red.

Screaming, shouting, cursing rage.

It's everywhere you look and turn.

Escape is … always temporary.

Until it isn't.

But then … everything is temporary until it isn't.

"Hi, how are you today?"

"Numb," is what I want to say.

It's my new normal.

Our new normal.

I want to hold onto a dream.

But my hands are like ice.

And the dream is too warm.

So, it slips right through my hands taking a bit of me away with it.

Blink and feel the tears fall silently.

Grin and feel the fakeness.

Breathe and feel the pressure.

The pressure that can burn you from the inside out without warning.

Close your eyes and try.

Try to dream.

Dream of anything.

Until the day you can dream forever.