Glass Smile

Glass Smile

(inspired by “Perfect Disguise”)

I powder my face with borrowed light,

stitch a grin across my mouth like a seamstress of lies.

In the mirror, my teeth are stars —

but behind them a cave of wolves howls.

The club is a cathedral of noise.

Bodies sway like candles, flickering, burning.

They think I’m fire.

I’m only smoke.

My past drags behind me,

a bridal train sewn from thorns.

My future perches on the balcony,

laughing, throwing stones.

They call me cold.

They call me cruel.

They call me names

for not giving pieces of myself

to every open hand.

But if I were a flame,

wouldn’t I burn them all?

I sleep with my phone glowing,

scrolling faces I’ll never meet,

praying to a God

who sometimes feels like silence

but still,

I pray.

You envy my shine?

Here, take it.

Wear my smile like a mask.

Feel the razor hidden in the ribbon.

Every night I dance with ghosts,

but every dawn

some tiny pulse

still knocks at my ribs —

a sparrow trapped in a glass house,

beating its wings, whispering:

Stay.

One day

I might listen.