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.
Through the Fog 