fire

I may look happy but I am still grieving. 
I am still burning in the fire, I am just getting used to the flames. 
There are no tears left, they have burned out of me. 
What is left is functional for the most part. 
I am going to work, I am getting stuff done... 
But in the quiet moments, I have nothing but grief. 
This is what I worry about for my father. 
I worry that it will envelop him like it does me. 
We are so similar because we try to shield everyone from it. 
We burn in silence. 
I realize my silence is me saying that I am not okay. 
Anyone who knows me knows that I am rarely silent. 
I am over here quietly being engulfed. 

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