Please don’t look at me
I don’t like it.
I’m worried you’ll see what I see.
The sag in my shoulders I carry like guilt,
The stitched-up silence behind my teeth,
The tremble I keep tucked in polite smiles,
The ache I polish until it gleams.
You might notice
The way I fold into corners,
Avoiding light like it owes me something.
You might hear the echo
Of things I didn’t say loud enough
To count.
I’ve spent years
Curating versions of myself
For safer consumption.
I don’t know how to be seen
Without performance.
Please don’t look at me.
I’m still learning not to flinch
At my own reflection.
But if you must —
Be kind.
Pretend you don’t notice
That I’m still unraveling
Just to feel real.