I must hide it. If all I must do
is click, click, copy and paste
a honey-sweet smile for you
that looks so badly misplaced.
All I must do is be contorted in a
mangled smirk of sugar, beneath
is my well-hidden pain, the decay
of bitter grapefruit in my teeth
I've stolen, the grin isn't mine.
If the only thing I have to do
is quietly utter, "I'm fine,"
then all I must do is lie to you.