The denial of pain

She said she had moved on, but I doubted that she did,
She put up a brave smile and acted as if all was splendid.
But inside she was broken and wanted a tender shoulder,
In defence, she acted strong and somewhat colder.

She felt like wearing black, but against her heart wore red,
Wanted to listen to sad songs but played loud metal ones instead.
She was adamantly in denial of her own pain, her grief,
Acceptance and liberation: she rebuffed herself the basic relief.

And all so suddenly she was grateful to those who, for her, were there,
Hoping it would substitute for the missing love and unrequited care.
She hugged her friends recurrently and thanked them for random stuff,
And kept assuring herself that for her their love was sufficiently enough.

But in her heart, she still couldn’t repudiate the feelings for him,
It kept coming back to her and made her condition grim,
And as strongly as it would come, she would as obstinately ignore
But then it would make it worse and more miserable than before.

Irrepressible spurt emotions when difficult for her to conceal,
Helplessly she would have spasms of bad temper piecemeal,
Which would leave her well-wishers befuddled and confused,
For a little while ago she was thankful and all over them with gratitude.

All the while, she would be hoping for somebody to understand her mood-swings,
And ask her what is actually wrong and if at all they could fix things,
Only then would she be able to admit her vulnerability and weep,
And take off her chest the thoughts which for days hadn’t let her sleep.