The Light Loves The Crack

The coffee cup is warm in your hand, but your skin feels cold where their eyes landed. They saw the crack.

They saw the tremor behind the smile you spent all morning gluing together. Now you are talking too fast, laughing too loud, performing the version of yourself that doesn't hurt.

But the light does not need your performance. It saw the crack too.

And it did not look away in disgust. It looked with the quiet recognition of something that knows exactly what it costs to hold a mask in place.

You are trying to pretend the break didn't happen, but the truth is already out. The mask is not the real thing.

The crack is. The light is not waiting for you to fix the surface.

It is standing right there in the awkward silence, loving the broken part you are trying to hide. You do not have to glue it back together before you are worthy of being seen.

The fracture is where the light gets out.