Between Masks

I smooth my smile

like a well-worn coat,

slip it on before the room shifts.

Laughter practiced,

fake like cracked porcelain—

a brittle echo that doesn't quite hold.

My reflection wavers—

two faces blurred in the window,

one calm and tired,

the other straining too hard to be light.

Between the mask and me

there’s a silence,

a place I forget how to stay,

a place I fear to find.