I Am Glad You're Not Here | Sreedhari Desai

I am glad you’re not here

I am glad you are not here,
you would have seen the tears--
salt-bright confessions
rolling down a face
I only wear in the dark.

You would have heard
the way the silence growls
between the ticking of the clock
and the crack in my voice
I keep stapled shut
when anyone says “you okay?”

I am glad you are not here
to watch me perform stability,
pouring coffee like nothing’s wrong,
hands shaking just enough
to make the spoon ring judgment
against the side of the cup.

You would have seen
the mirror I turned face-down,
because I got tired
of catching myself flinch
at a stranger whom I can’t outrun.

You are not here
to see the messages I type
and erase
and type
and erase--
a ghostwriter for conversations
that will never exist.

You would have seen
how your name still detonates
in the middle of my thoughts,
how I sweep the shrapnel
under practiced smiles
and overused jokes.

So yeah, I’m glad you’re not here.
I’m glad you can’t see
how the armor you left me in
is rusting from the inside out,
how every “I’m fine”
drips red at the edges.

I am glad you are not here--
you would have seen the tears,
and worse,
you might have stayed long enough
to see what’s left
after they finally
run out.