The corners of her lips are turned
up, always, no matter the circumstance,
no matter the place.
Her mouth is her armor, not the sound it
makes–her voice is insignificant–but
the corners cut into her cheeks, sweet, nice,
kind, always stretching herself thin, filling
the void that silence leaves behind.
She taught herself how to smile without
teeth, making sure her eyes enforce the lies
that she tells
the world? or herself?
Does is even matter? she’s made of porcelain,
don’t you agree? All dolled up and ready to
break, right in front of you, always on
the edge of the abyss, but she doesn’t,
she won’t fall.
She taught herself how to smile,
how to hide the cuts, the fragments,
her bruised soul.
She’s sugar sweet, and always kind, with
that forever smile, tearing her face
in half. But she keeps her lips sealed,
her pain hidden
because she’s too nice to bother
the world with what lies
She looks like sunshine and rainbows,
so why would anyone ever ask her
*This is mine. Don’t copy it without my permission.
**I will post some of my poems when I feel that I haven’t uploaded something recently.