Atlas

People notice when you are missing from a space you usually inhabit, one that you occupy however whisperingly. Most do not say they see your absence, occupied as they are with their own things. Maybe they choose not to say it or forget to bring it up. Others do not forget and do bring it up.

You may think you are being smart about it by doing it every few times only. Even as you tiptoe in the ether, quietly disappearing yourself, you cause a ripple in the waters of some still minds. Like dragonflies snapped out of buoyant reveries, they flit towards you, batting questioning wings in your face.

You cannot blow them away for in their squinting curiosity, they are the only ones who can see your tears and notice the cuts the world has made in you. You smile and shrug their concerns away. They linger then go to do their own things.

You do not, cannot, allow them to see your scars and your creaking bones. How can you when the world rests on your shoulders?

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