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you say you’ve been doing fine,

but I can see

the cuts on your lips

from where you chewed

off your anxiety with your teeth.

you say you’re better now,

but I can see

last night’s eyeliner running

down your eyes.

you say you’re fine,

but I can see

red lines attacking your irises.

thinking everyone is blind

to how your insides twist

and how sleep runs from you

at night, when things seem

the heaviest and the emptiest

you try to think about how the future

might bring some relief.

you say with a smile

that you have never felt better.

but I can see

you are hiding behind lies.

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