Poems

The smile

It's the smile you give when someone takes a photo of you.
It's the bell-like laugh you emit when everyone else is laughing but you just don't feel like it.
It's the smile your boyfriend says he hates, like he can see all the pain in your eyes.
But then it's the same smile he sees when he thinks everything is alright.
It's the smile you give when he looks at you with lust in his eyes, but not the affection you need.
The smile you give when he worships your body, but not your heart.
It's the brilliant smile when someone asks how you're doing.
Like the person you're looking at is a ray of light in the darkness that is your mind.
And for a second, your eyes are open.
They ask how you are and you always answer "good".
But that's when the mask is on.
That's when your eyes close and once again you're locked in your own mind.
The cage that locks you in pitch black deafening silence.
The same cage that silences the screams of "I'm not ok!".
The smile of your teeth that shine bright, like you're the light in that persons life is the bars to your cage.
Because so many times you've tried to tell them.
So many times you've slipped an arm out of those bars.
For it to only be invisible to that person.
Invisible like your own cage.
Silent like your own screams.
Darkness is all that remains in your mind, like a black fog you can never escape.
It thickens and thins, but you've never found your way out.
Like a soul lost in purgatory.
Like a frightened animal lost in the woods.
Only, those things can actually see.
Those things can actually scream.
They can be heard.
All anyone ever sees is the mask, but it's easier.
It's easier than fighting.
It's easier than breaking the cage and saying "I'm not ok."
Because that would mean admitting defeat.
And you're not that weak.
So you fight a battle that isn't even yours.
Every single second.
Of every single minute.
Of every single day.
Of every single week.
Of every single month.
For years.
No ones ever see the facade that is your smile, not truly.
Sure, sometimes you managed to get help.
Only to feel like no one believes you.
They make you feel like you're lying.
They make you feel like you've made your pain up.
That you're attention seeking.
That it's all in your head.
And it is.
They're right.
But that doesn't mean it isn't a fight.
That doesn't mean the fight isn't real.
That doesn't mean I can't hear your screams.
Even if you can't hear mine over the bell like laugh and the smile that brightens your day.