I See Your Sadness

I see your sadness—

not the obvious kind,

not the kind

that asks to be noticed.

The quiet kind.

The one you tuck

behind your words,

the one that slips

between sentences

when you think

no one’s paying attention.

You carry it well.

That’s the problem.

You’ve learned

how to soften your edges,

how to smile

just enough

to keep people from asking.

But it’s there.

In the way you pause

a second too long,

in the way your eyes

don’t quite stay

where they should,

in the way you exist

like you’re holding something

you don’t know

how to set down.

I don’t need you

to explain it.

I don’t need

a version of it

that’s easier to hear.

I just need you

to know this—

you don’t have

to hide it here.

Not from me.

Because I see it.

And I’m not going anywhere

just because

you’re not okay.