I am still

in this photograph

almost dead,

with the last smile

a white smile.

That was my passport

some five years ago

for a woman

who wanted my smile

as her pet.

In and out she made it difficult

For the propositions I believed

A smile was sum of

the pride

A smile was equal to how much

I lied.

A smile is a hunchback

that makes me bend

with the pain,

arrived me after forties

with my right arm

for the physician

who avoided deliberately

on with a substitute

grouchy face

for a smile of me.

But I smiled that day

for the woman

who etherized and operated

and made me smile

for a while

for a passport

her ethereal whisper

permanent  hypocrisy

pinned up may face

with

An epitome or epithet

the smile slaps on face

annually.

the passport made my face horrible.