And She Smiled At Him

I've been contemplating how to describe a smile in terms of poetry - here is one attempt.

Closer though to a grimace

than to any grin,

for it was not the tugging

of your heartstrings

that drew apart

the curtains of your mouth,

but calculated show

for this audience,

that I might be

deceived and believe

my words could

still carry meaning,

a dozen scarlet roses,

to your door.

It was well received,

well reviewed too,

most critics were fooled,

but the audience knew

you no longer danced

for another, for me,

your soft patterns

now paced on the stage

for your delight

alone.

And the crowd saw me
abandoned,

alone.