what loss looks like

two years ago,
someone i know lost her fiancé.
I can’t remember now
what it was.
probably a car accident.
they’re far more likely
than a plane,
not that anyone cares.

I watched her after that
as if i could see her loss
like a scarlet A on her chest,
a mark of Cain across her head.

but it wasn’t there.

she smiled. she spoke.
she moved on.
I suppose she grieved
in private, as she had
every right to do.

I imagine it’s the same
now that I’m the one
who walks through the halls
with only a smile
to dispel the black cloud
of my father’s murder.

they search my face for cracks
in the surface,
seismic disturbances
to belie the lie
every time I say
“I’m fine.”

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