Giving my smile away freely to the world
and having men assume it’s because I’m interested in them.
They then harass, touch, and follow me around for it.
So as I get older, I stop smiling,
realizing how powerful and sacred mine is.
And men around me demand that I smile – I refuse.
They then harass, touch, and follow me around for it.
Years go by.
One day I study my face carefully in the mirror.
I decide I deserve a smile, so I look at myself
and lift up the corners of my mouth.
Denying myself happiness for years to keep myself safe has…
completely rebuilt my face.
My smile is unrecognizable to me.
It is uncomfortable to wear,
and it looks awkward, misplaced.
Wrong.
It takes everything in me, everything,
to stop myself from throwing
this stupid mirror across the room
knowing that if they had just left me alone,
I could give myself the same smile I used to give away so freely.
A small part of me wonders if these men
realize the damage they cause.
Does it make them smile to see a broken woman like me?
Feeling defeated, I look up.
Countless pill bottles are strewn all across the kitchen counter.
I mutter to myself “Not today” and reach past all of them
for an attractive, inviting, emerald green bottle –
It’s my old friend.
Soon I am swimming in delusion and fantasy.
I turn off the lights.
I dance in the dark where no one can see me,
away from the mirror, away from myself.
I feel myself smiling from ear to ear.
My empty apartment fills with sweet nothings –
“You are safe. You are loved.”
I drink myself to sleep.
c.m faust 