That's what she does.

She will smile and show up, because

that’s what she does.

Heart heavy, or hollow, or hallowed,

whatever.

She will smile and show up, because

that’s what she does,

making excuses and apologies.

Eyeing the empty place setting at the table,

fielding innocent inquiries,

accepting  sincere well wishes.

And well,

you know.

She’ll wander among the cheerful
guests, feeling more alone than

if she’d planned to arrive that way.

More alone than

if she’d stayed at home, alone.

Which is where she’d rather be.

Home. Alone.

In her bed, under her covers,

weeping.

For the letting go of the hope

that this time,

she wouldn’t be alone.

But instead, she smiles. And shows up. Because that’s what she does.