Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

More in the Smile Than the Girl

I used to
love my own smile,
but now I love
looking at it in the mirror until
I can fully piece it back together,
like a jigsaw puzzle,
until I can feel my gums blurring into
cold glass,
until I can’t recognize
the reflection of the reflection I’ve made of what I see reflected on faces around me;
happiness
is just
beyond my reach.
I preached
that I was so happy to
throngs of people,
tricking myself into thinking that
maybe a
falsified flash of teeth was all it took
for people to know I was
beautiful and
happy.
And now,
my teeth are stained with
all the coffee I’ve sipped to slip out of sleep’s eternal,
ethereal embrace and
I never wore my retainer so
my smile can never retain any ounce of beauty.
Where did the potential go?
Another thing I’ve ruined.





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