it was not her.
The top of her cheek
matched the bottom
of her eyes.
You weren’t seeing her;
you were seeing the
tip of the iceberg
as it proceeded to melt;
you were seeing what
her silence couldn’t hide.
The Cheshire cat smiled
so she did not cry.
This world
called her hurt
has declawed her &
counted her as defeated,
but her words
are like talons.
When she smiled,
it was not her.
It wasn’t even what
was left of her,
because society
has killed that off too.
It was by force.
It was all force,
because this life
didn’t allow her to smile
to be natural,
but forced to be painted on
in correction ink, red &
to;d her to go on &
she did so.
ReplyDeleteYour smile isn’t a mask,
it’s a map,
each curve tracing battles won,
each glint a testament
to claws they thought
they could dull.
Let them call it painted but
There is a truth:
a masterpiece of defiance,
a quiet roar in the shape
of a smile.