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How To Disappear Without Dying
Step one
Smile like stitches not for joy
Just tight enough to hold you in
The kind of smile that never aches
But keeps your mouth from spilling
Step two
Speak after everyone has left
Let words fall where no one looks
Your voice belongs to empty rooms
Where no one asks or stays too long
Step three
Move quiet through morning fog
Become the blur behind the glass
The kind of shape no one recalls
But swears they almost noticed
Step four
Fold your hopes into small things
Crumple them like worn receipts
Hide them inside library books
Where no one cares to turn the page
Step five
When no one says your name aloud
Don’t correct or say it again
Let silence swallow the letters
Like they were never yours
Step six
Forget the weight of your footsteps
The way your shadow used to fall
Not vanished, just uncarried
Like dust that left the frame
Step seven
Smile until your jaw remembers
Not joy, just something practiced
It’s not about being okay
Only about being seen
Step eight
Start leaving before you’re missed
Let time erase you in pieces
Not vanished, just rewritten
Like a sentence no one finished
Step nine
Forget the sound of your voice
Let it blur behind the glass
Not erased but left behind
Like fog that doesn’t return
Step ten
Smile again,
Not because you’re okay
But because the mask
Fits better than your face.
Copyright ©
Naima Ybarra-Fernando
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