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Aaron Fuchs Jun 2010
Children's smiles,
they
go with
the
days.
Like spilled
cups of
coffee and
bluebird's
songbird songs and
LOS DIAS
written in
fading
trailing letters
on my ceiling,
they
go with
the
days.
Aaron Fuchs Jun 2010
It's there. In every smile
it hides in the creases of your lips
and when your eyes light up it's there in the empty spaces in between
laughing like darkness laughs when light can't catch it,
and light can never catch it completely,
it's there always, always always
in the way the summer sun dries your tears and
massages your shoulders, it's there.
In every word it's hiding there just behind your tongue.
Most of all it's there when you stare off at nothing,
down at the emerald carved grass, up at the stars,
at nothing and I can see your mind tick straight
through your eyes, I can see your soul screaming and
it's screaming and it's there in the screams
there in the back corner of you,
of your mind of the place so deep inside shadows of shadows
whisper secrets to themselves, the kind you're afraid to listen
to because you might see yourself too clearly
and it's there, it's all the way back there,
it's in every every and it's an impending failure,
a misunderstanding, an explosion, a fear. It's fear
and it's a waiting, a knowing, a certainty.
It's a knowing, and that's the scariest part.

— The End —