The smile is not a smile
thoughts shaped into words.
For sharp curves and deep grooves,
reawaken old fears
and the meeting of lips
—
Every fleeting breath
knows the joy of wonder.
For drifting songs sung in a symphony,
speaks a forlorn whisper
and heralds the promise
—
Crueler than any letter
Ablaze with desperate rage.
For passionate nails and scarlet scars,
kindles a last sacrifice
and we cry at every word
—
Written for Poetry Jam
Life From A Park Bench 
Oh, yes, there are the words that are sharp curves and deep grooves that keep one’s fears alive. I feel some kind of desperation in that last stanza. But I hope that the promise mentioned in the second stanza stills one’s fear.
I can feel pain and unease in your words. Yet maybe if we listen to that whisper we might hear a song that will change all that.
Definitely has a disquieting feel when I read this. I hope your back pain is not the inspiration for this! Though reading it again, it could be.
hey if we can get that kinda response from our writing…a movement at every word…
i think when we write it real, we can…because truth calls to truth…
I liked the opening lines of your poem. Reading through the poem, you have unravelled several emotions- fear, pain, promise, rage, sacrifice. Your poem gives hope and at the same time touches reality.
What all power these words have, don’t they??