[ found on a price tag for a toy ]
roses are red,
violets are blue,
please look up,
I have something
for you.
—Charlie
And as you looked up and reached
for the balloon, your fingertips
grazed the edges of the little
drawing hanging loosely by a thread;
there was this...smile on your face.
A catharsis rung throughout the
tree, crawling through it's empty
veins of blood and springing
down to my feet. I realized that
a person is oblivious to their
own smile.
I am oblivious to my own smiles.
When you spend your seconds trying
to stir a bowl of emblems that bring
smiles, you forget how to smile
yourself—
always busy wondering
if you scar the empty sky with
loosened dreams; or if you're
just an open book whose letters
keep falling out.
Or if you're just
a bottle who has cracked open
shards of sins.
And when I saw a smile
on your pink lips, happiness covered
all sequence of argument—
an argument that states
everyone is oblivious
to their smiles—for I brought
my fingertips to my mouth
and traced the edges of an upside
down frown.
Thanks for making me
smile, love.
I needed it.
