Maybe the moon sees. 

I watched you while you slept and envied your peace. Even in the comfort of your arms my mind screams for reassurance. 
The haunting of bones buried scratching to the surface. I quietly re-cover them and tie the pretty ribbon tighter. I can’t find the source of the leak but hear the dripping becoming louder and can’t understand why you don’t hear it. Maybe you do. Maybe the sound is your own hidden questions clanking against the metal cage you’ve tried to bury. But your smile wears straight. And deliberate. Sincere. Maybe only the moon sees. She hides my tears and maybe she hides yours as well. Maybe she will take the echo from my walls and give me sleep. For now, I’ll watch you sleep and pretend your peace is my own.


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