if my smile could speak

how am i?
i don’t know
the pills i’m on could conjure up a desired reply
what have i been up to?
slipping my hands in black water
only to be grabbed by the kind man i once knew
how’s work?
absolutely draining
full of none genuine greetings and small talk that is anything but entertaining

i’ve grown too familiar with their faces
so every once in awhile
i glare outside the window of my cafe
i saw two people practicing ballet
envisioning the smoke between my lungs become a gastray

if my smile could speak
what would it say
would it inhale deep
or darken the day

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