They draped it—a scarf—bright enough

They draped it—a scarf—bright enough

to set off alarms in my throat.

Rough yarn scraped my skin

like a lie I learned too young.

Under the flickering store bulbs,

I smiled, nodded, the thread

snagging on every truth I didn’t say.

This gift was a burden,

a price for kindness that felt like a debt.

I wore the color

until the edges frayed,

until my fingers itched

for anything softer,

anything less fake.