Wash your tear stained cheeks.
Press the cloth a little to hard into your skin.
Give the blotches of redness an excuse to be there.
Grasp something, anything, on your trembling hands.
Squeeze it until your knuckles turn white.
Stop them from revealing your weakness.
Honey-coat your sore voice.
Soften it so they don’t get mad.
Become the little, precious object of light they always assume you to be.
Tuck the fear away, unseen.
Hide the ache away with a pleasant smile.
Pretend that everything is alright.
“Be fine” they say, and so you are.
Don’t reveal that you are not, in fact, fine.
Do know, however that it will pass.