The Day No One Asked
I wish someone had asked, \"Are you okay?\" Because I would’ve told them— about the pain I bottle, tucked beneath polite nods and hollow laughter.
I’d have said how the guilt sleeps in the back of my closet, folded beneath shirts I never wear— wrinkled, heavy, unforgiven.
I’d have spoken of the broken pieces, stuffed in the cracks no one notices. How sadness clings to me like a ghost— not loud, just ever-present.
But no one asked. So everything stayed hidden, where only those who look past the mask, the silence, the “I’m fine” might find what I never said.