I learned that smile the hard way.
Not to fake it
to soften the room.
To buy myself a second before the truth hits.
Then, when nobody’s watching,
it spills out.
It doesn’t sprint into anything anymore.
It approaches love like fire; slow, hands out, watching the heat.
Contemplates.
Reasons.
Just proceeds with caution.
Play is the safest doorway.
A song.
A joke.
A small moment that feels light.
If it stays gentle long enough…
Its real.
Sometimes it disappears.
Not because it’s weak; because it’s tired.
And when it comes back, it’s slow.
One inch. One breath. Still moving.
It offers itself in inches.
A small truth.
A quiet admission.
A “this is scary for me.”
If someone holds it without squeezing…
then it sings.
Pain leaves scars.
So when joy arrives,
the heart hesitates
it doesn’t hate happiness,
but because it’s been hurt before.
That’s the miracle part.
Even after everything… it still wants.
Still hopes.
Still reaches.
So if you see me smiling before I cry
know it isn’t a lie.
It’s my heart protecting itself…