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No One Knows
The Face No One Knows
Withdrawn from feeling,
I become the silence between heartbeats
a body breathing,
a soul dissolving.
Dissociation.
Contemplation.
My heart does not break.
It splinters—
casting unseen fragments
like dying stars across the walls of my mind.
I drift beyond the fault lines,
escaping the gravitional pull
of thoughts that know my name
better than I know my own.
Perhaps its obscene—
this quiet unraveling,
this funeral held
inside me.
Where does sorrow go
when no one wishes to witness it?
There is no sanctuary.
No room
for grief with sharpened teeth.
You do not post.
You do not speak.
You smile with practiced precision,
while swallowing storms
that would drown softer souls.
Hold.
Release.
The world applauds composure,
never asking
what had to die
to achieve it.
So the unseen places
Are my cathedral.
A silent rage
kneels beside me
A whisper of a scream
echoes through hollow ribs,
never reaching the air.
Only hot, quiet tears
slip between the cracks,
vanishing before the surface
The darkness slides behind my eyes,
As I hold my head up high and pretent like everything is alright.
