Won't You Smile?

WON’T YOU SMILE? 
I like it when the muscles right above your chin, creep a creepy crawl and stretch into a grin. When baby flexions flex and pack a bag of mirth, voyaging to those dual orbs and in that place give birth; to children round the rim, in whom I take delight. Your humble acquiescence belies no hint of fright. 

Darling, won’t you smile? 

Your smile is a protection from blights that blight your soul, an ingenious deflection, balm to make you whole. What goodness you inherit when masking all your trials? Chin chin, head back, now ferret out a smile. 

Friend, won’t you smile? 

Only in your joy I promise I’m invested. I ask this all for your own sake, my innocence untested. My anger grows by increments, imperatives defied. My patience slowly ebbing when you refuse to smile. What know you of choices? I know what’s best for you. Controlling all the voices, you’ll do what I say to. You the stain on pristine station, wagons rolling west; the darkened spot besmirching fences, picketed, and blessed. Do what I say now, show me your obedience, bow your head down low! Why all this reticence? 
 
Get your hands in the air. Say cheese. 

I promise you that I won’t bite, smiling you assuage my fright, and make me feel as I’m supposed to—brave, strong—only you know how to. Not an iota in my aorta will change until I get you, to do what I want you to (and smile). I need your positivity, your smiling face a drug to me. My interior monologue recites the ancient decalogue. And what does this do? Nothing. It is worth nothing, has no grounding. I am blinded, mind confounded, life a mess, thoughts a wreck. My being infantile, adrift without your smile. 

I’m sorry, now will you smile? 

 I watch you smile when you’re alone with those who look like you. I used to own your smiling face, and now it’s just no use. Had hoped you would believe the hoax and just flow with the flow. I hoped that all the years of pain you’d discreetly let go. And in that way my own abuse would dissipate and vanish. My guilt, my shame, my deep disgrace I just can’t seem to manage. How does a once great Colossus return from beating his wife? From ripping her into little shreds and stamping out her life? 

Are there therapists, spiritualists, recovery programs for giants? Maybe I should just...smile.

by: Planted Black Prose

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