Home » Poems » Dan Enache » On the stage of life, I paint my lips crimson, a smile stitched with invisible thread

On the stage of life, I paint my lips crimson, a smile stitched with invisible thread

On the stage of life, I paint my lips crimson, a smile stitched with invisible thread,
While the scar beneath my ribs sings a melody only I can hear.
The halogen spotlights burn intensely, bleaching the shadows where my pain retreats,
Like a sleeping child, small, forgotten, yet still breathing in the deafening silence.
Pirouetting with borrowed grace, each step a sonnet, each glance a verse,
The audience sighs, mistaking the tremor in my hands for passion,
Unaware that it is the echo of a wound I refuse to name.
Ah, the art of vanishing in plain sight—how the body becomes both blade and sheath.
At the end, they throw roses, their petals soft like apologies I will never receive,
I bow deeply, ever deeper, until my spine becomes a question mark—
Is it enough? Will it ever be enough to play this silent role amid applause?
And in this flow of thoughts, each moment becomes a suspended question,
A dance of shadows and lights, a struggle between what I show and who I am.
I wear my mask with elegance, as the world spins around me,
A stage full of illusions, where I am both the actor and the spectacle.
In the silence between applause, I think of my scar that sings,
Of the child asleep in the shadows, of the questions that curve my spine,
And I wonder, deep in my soul, if I will ever find answers,
If my stitched smile will ever become a free, unrestrained laughter.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.