Shattered Grief

You look at me and don't see the deep pain that is coursing through my body. I'm not throwing myself on the ground or screaming. I'm standing, stock still with a smile on my face, so no one knows that every breath I take feels as though it is a knife ripping through my soul. No one can see the open wounds that pepper my heart and my mind. The wounds that ooze ever so slowly poisoning my memories. I look fine; I act fine; it is how I am surviving. I can't talk about it, and no one can touch me. Because if you do, I will shatter into a thousand pieces, and there will be nothing left of me.