Fruit Cups

I’m running out of fruit cups

and excuses

digging into a pocket full of history

for recycled lies

refurbished,

coated in an ancient paint color: “I’m back”

no one will know.

No more “I’m fine”s

that didn’t work last time.

but gaudy smiles & rainbow photos

& selfies with birthday cake.

Shut that knee up

it won’t stop quivering.

tell the spine to whimper not wail

because the neighbors ears are perked up

everybody is staring.

You cannot hide dead eyes in glitter shadow

and a cracking heart under an oversized hoodie

and laughter is not louder than the hollow sound of a fading heartbeat

even when you’re not sick enough.

At some point

a muscle will twitch

a bone will breathe

secrets exposed.

control is a traitor waiting to turn her back on you.

Today I’m running out of fruit cups

and excuses.