I want to tell you that I’m broken;

That I’m glued together by tenacity,

by admitting that regardless of the cracks—

the curling yellow taped edges—

the leaking of my life from pinholes of pain—

tomorrow will come and if I’m in it,

I will get up and believe for the best another day.

I want to say—

don’t applaud my strength,

don’t ask, “How do you do it?”

don’t shake your head in disbelief that I’m battle weary,

wounded, leaving a trail of invisible blood,

that you would never follow;

never see as victory;

never draw near to.

I won’t speak.

You won’t know.

I will walk a solitary path,

with you.