The Shelf

I smile, and you smile back,
As one best greets a friend,
But smiles and a greeting
Is always where it ends.

Each day forces me to put
My truth back on a shelf.
So every day I suffocate
A fiber of myself.

I don't know how long I'll hold out,
Still hands and tongue and eyes.
I'll play my part: familiar, safe,
Keep you from asking "why?"

But soon you will not have to ask
About that weary shelf.
I'm just a man who stores things.
It's who I've made myself.