Uninvited Smile

Night outside.

Neon dripping

down the glass

like the city forgot

how to cry quietly.

And me—

I’m sitting here

with empty pockets,

empty hands,

empty words

I keep pretending

are enough.

My friend is talking—

talking like the world

still makes sense to him.

His voice spins,

circles the table,

lifts, drops,

echoes.

I nod, yeah…

yeah…

but the storm inside me?

It doesn’t move.

It just sits there—

heavy,

humid,

unimpressed.

And then—

outta nowhere—

something cracks

across my face.

A smile.

Crooked.

Accidental.

A smile I never ordered,

never wanted,

never believed in.

Like I’m laughing

at my own loneliness.

Like I’m finally in on the joke

that life’s been telling

for years.

The coffee cools.

The city burns.

People rush past the window

looking for meaning,

money,

a miracle—

I don’t know.

And me?

I’m just sitting here

with that stupid little smile—

like nothing can touch me

anymore,

like I’ve already

lost enough

to be free.