Happiness passes inspection,

brief as an elevator stop.

I smile on schedule so the cameras log

“operational.” The glitch resumes between floors.

Numbness isn’t empty.

It’s frost over live wires,

quieting the sparks so the building

doesn’t learn my name.

Pain has a low visibility setting.

Public-facing: clear skies.

Backend: red banners, silent alarms,

maintenance ticket closed without repair.

I can carry it. I always do.

Carrying isn’t curing.

Scaffold is strong until the wind remembers.

Then I become angles and compliance.

They won’t see it. That was the bargain.

I keep my weather indoors.

The forecast prints “mild.”

My bones read “storm, continuing.”

Truth arrives like an expiry date

stamped into the soft part of the day.

I read it twice, underline once,

file it where the light can’t follow.

It hurts. 

Of course it does.

To touch anything warm with borrowed hands,

To know the lease ends at closing time,

To lock up, lights off, still burning