she walked through life pretending. pretending to be happy. pretending to be OK. but she never complained. she never told. she hid under her bed, under the covers, beneath it all. snot stains and tissue residue slept where she used to lay. but she never complained. a gaping hole, a dead heart, a mute soul. it was her. she was it. her lips were chapped, her chapstick gone. black shadows circulate her beautiful almond shaped eyes. her tongue--dried. third story building. an open window. finally. an answer.