Can you tell when my eyes are dry,
The days they’ve puffed and days they’ve cried?
Can you speak for all my weeks
Plumbers could not stop my tear ducts’ leaks?
Can you feel that I am exhausted
The times I try to look enthusiastic?
Can you touch my saran wrapped heart
The moments I keep my countenance plastic?
Can you see when I fake laughs
That inside I am far from glee?
But perhaps that is too much to ask;
You could never look to me.
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