Ghosts behind the smile
The contortions of my
cheeks ache.
They turn cherub red
like a trampled rose,
pierced in its own thorn.
Wider and wider,
till my teeth slice into my skin
and my face blurs
into one big smile.
Squinting my dampened eyes,
I yank my smile,
like a mighty fisherman
reeling in a catch;
higher and higher
until my forehead summons
an undulating terrain
of strangeness.
I hammer down the
unwilling smile
with holy water,
bleeding and laughing,
to keep the fiends at bay.
I smile a sad shield,
to trap the ghosts.
I am not immune to the voices,
snarling and scratching
on the other side.
They bang the door,
flickering the smile,
as flimsy as a cloth
on a drying line
on a windy day.
They promise fantasies
and rampage.
A scream so guttural,
the treetops tremble
and shove the birds.
Cries so blue,
they flood the earth,
drowning the skies and oceans;
soft sighs as bitter
as parted lovers,
without last goodbyes,
acrid like barren fields;
defeated gasps,
as hopeless as the sun
swallowed whole by the moon.
The unscathed the smile
sits above the din,
like a slumped warrior
smiling at its advancing adversary.
The hauntings get loud-
in the bustle of the day,
in the quiet of the night.
Cracks spiderweb
across my will.
Their honeyed whispers
anoint the rusted lock
with promises.
Claws dig into the last wall,
fangs tear into the flesh;
for how long can I hold the line?
No matter how much
I paint my smile
with the colours of dawn,
by evening the paint
rots and moulds afresh.
The layers coat
a foundation
as frail as my smile.
One day, the hollow core
will collapse.
The fiends will burst through
and find me.
Or maybe, I will loosen
the bolt myself
and emancipate my
tormentors.
Perhaps, we will dance
a macabre ballet,
me and my beloved ghosts.
-Adria
