there,
on the vanity it sits—
a perfect smile 'cross perfect lips,
different from the rest
though no less the same.
smooth silk wrapped to tie
in a ritual ignorant of shame,
to fasten in place our lie
a knot most meticulous in design.
hand in hand unwittingly we dance
together in this mingling mystery,
with partners of mutual secrecy.
fingers interlaced,
feigned honesty embraced,
swinging twirling maneuvering,
dancing to the tune of
hearts sobbing souls crying,
unabashed by singing despairing.
carefully painted,
adorned by most beautiful deceit.
flawless—pristine
milk white composure,
hiding beneath
the honest human
in orchestrated illusion.
a mask to hide truth, our
vulnerabilities, insecurities, showing
instead
the face of who we wish to be,
who we deem ourselves to be,
how society demands we be.
by shame or guilt
unfulfilled ambition to become
our dishonest rendition.
so convincing our lies even teller be fooled,
the truth to surface only by dream,
casting reality to realm of fantasy;
stealing from world a uniqueness of beauty.
a mask
belonging to a person—
to each person;
lies not worth living.
there it sits on the vanity—a
perfect smile across perfect lips.
