“What’s Behind That Smile?” By Both Hands on the Mic They say, “Smile for the camera.” So I did. Lips curled like a question mark around teeth clenched tight with secrets. And no one asked the right one: “What are you hiding behind that light?” ‘Cause baby, behind this smile is a graveyard of swallowed screams, a closet full of don’t-tell-nobody dreams, a face beat flawless, but the soul? Unseen. Unclean. Under construction with caution tape no one ever reads. Behind that smile, she bruises in designer. He shatters in Gucci. They laugh in limelight but sleep beside silence so loud it cancels applause. Behind that smile is a child still waiting to be rescued, a woman pretending sex equals love, a man who ain’t cried since ‘92 because his daddy said “boys don’t feel” and that commandment became law. Behind that smile is the house that ain’t a home, the hand that once held love now controls with chrome. It’s red carpets and court cases, baby showers and restraining orders. Private je...