Three Ways to Say It

I said it to my mother first—

careful, the way you fold a letter

before you seal it,

words already tasting like obligation.

Then I said it to you

and meant every syllable,

felt it in my sternum,

the terrifying weight of it.

An hour later, texting my friend back,

I said it casual,

a period at the end of a sentence,

and I couldn't hear

which version was the lie.

My own voice became a stranger.

I've been practicing in the mirror

but all three versions live in my mouth now,

and I don't know which one

the body believes.