The hardest part of carrying a broken heart is the manual labor of keeping the face intact. We learn to weave a tapestry of "I'm fine" and "just tired," carefully tucking the jagged edges of our grief beneath a curve of the lips. It is a lonely masquerade, where the applause of the world is given to the mask, while the person behind it shivers in the cold. This is for those who serve as their own architects, building a fortress of smiles to protect a world that isn't ready for their tears.
The Architect of the Painted Smile
I wear a masterpiece of soft deceit,
A bright composure, polished and complete.
A curve of lips to hold the flood at bay,
To keep the winter from the light of day.
No one suspects the fracture in the bone,
The quiet weight I carry all alone.
For laughter is the shield that I have made,
A golden armor for a long parade.
They see the surface, sparkling and still,
Managed by a sheer and stubborn will.
They do not hear the cracking of the glass,
As all the happy, busy people pass.
It is a heavy craft, this hollow art,
To bridge the gap between the face and heart.
To be the sun for everyone to see,
While drowning in a deep and silent sea.
So I will smile until the lights go dim,
And keep the secret locked away within.
For masks are safer than the truth I know—
A brilliant stage for such a lonely show.