To keep the pain awake,
I dance solo,
And let you watch.

There is a little moon,
Behind clouds above,
In broad daylight.

In my head, I let tears stream down my cheeks.
On my cheeks, I feel their warm saltiness.

But, I let you watch, so I wont cry this time.
All strength is make believe.
I make myself believe!

The wishing, the pushing.
Smiles are real.
Feeding the thoughts, but not to pigs.

Thoughts as streams, don’t have to make sense.
Sensibilities, of hurt, may not be real.
But I should not worry.
But it worries me.
As I think—too much.

I watch those kids at the playground, watching their mothers watching them.
Autumn leaves.
And I still have not asked.
What makes you happy.