Beneath the Smile

I dress myself
in quiet lies,
a smile practiced
until it almost fits,
eyes that shine
just enough
to hide what's underneath.

They see grace,
but not the ghosts
pounding on doors
I've nailed shut.
Or the way even
a gentle hand
can pull the air
from my lungs.

They don't know
how hard it is
to make it look easy—
to stand tall,
and look strong
while I'm falling
apart.