Shush Don’t Say It.

Shush Don’t Say It

Shush.

Don’t say it.

She doesn’t want to hear it’s over.

She doesn’t want to hear they’re over.

Not yet.

If it isn’t said, it isn’t fixed.

That’s how she’s keeping it standing.

She looks at the floor.

Then the wall.

Anywhere that isn’t your face.

Say you’re tired.

Say you need time.

Say something that can still change.

Her phone is in her hand again.

It’s always in her hand.

Nothing coming in.

Still.

People are watching her carefully.

That’s how she knows.

That and the way no one meets her eyes.

She isn’t being dramatic.

She just wants one more normal day.

One day where the word doesn’t exist.

Shush.

Leave it where it is.

Some things end only when they’re spoken,

and she’s not ready to hear hers.