Broken

Not the physical kind,
For I would have been strong,
For it would have been temporary.
But it's the kind which kills.

With no visible physical symptoms,
With just traces of tears as side effects,
With no one else recognizing.
For it's the kind which is silent.

A smile just plastered on,
Blank look adorning the eyes,
As dreams are no longer present,
For it's the kind to banish happiness.

Deliberate avoidance or something else,
Don't know what to name it.
But names now don't matter,
For it's the kind which broke my heart.