In my head

 I used to lie that it was mother who taught me how not to cry. 

I am sorry, I shouldn’t have. 

The truth is that I learnt how not to. 

Because I used to go so much in circles, and my world used to crash in the open.

 And so, I had to be strong. 

Then I learnt the muffle. 

How to get into your pillow with your grieve dripping as tears.

 I want this cup to pass. 

I want to unlearn the days that I had thoughts in my head. I want unlearn heavy eyes.

 Staring at the ceiling, I want to unlearn getting up and wiping my tears.

 I lied. I am the softest person you’ve ever met.