She started walking two days after,
running within a week.
Each day she ran those miles faster!
Physically, she would quickly peak.
She ran to combat it,
her becoming a disaster.
She was afraid to bring it up,
she was scared they would ask her.
But even more afraid of that,
she feared that they wouldn’t.
They had to bring it up,
she knew that she couldn’t.
It was hidden inside her,
like a wire wrapping her psyche,
cutting into her brain,
she felt the pressure, tightly.
It just might kill her,
if that wire tightened more.
It would shred her to pieces,
it would sever her core.
You look great! They said.
Her appearance fooled them.
She looked healthy. Strong.
She smiled and wooed them.
But she was not okay.
She was sick, deep inside.
She felt weak. Embarrassed.
The disease was easy to hide.
She was wearing herself to the bone,
running from fear, running for health.
She could not be trusted to be alone,
not with the baby, or her own self.
She wore a mask, to appear in control,
as the docs droned on and on.
They didn’t notice the void behind either eye hole,
or their patient, so withdrawn.
Everything looked good, or so they said.
Amazing! Bravo! Congratulations!
Smiling, the doctor shook her head.
But there were serious internal complications.
They never asked about it,
which she thought was bizarre.
She smiled and left.
And cried in the car.