The last time I saw her smile
I smelt the turmoil
burdening her shoulders
I tasted the stiff sense of self reliance
and swore the moon swooned at the way her lips curved
Freckles aligning in such a fashion
synonymous with the stars
and I wouldn’t mind piecing together
the constellations on her face if given the chance
Jaw incredulous
surreptitious of individuality
and full of ****
she is archaic for a taste that
won’t leave my mouth
i wouldn’t want her too anyways
if her palms were magnetic
i wouldn’t mind being the tin man
i’d like to record her heart beat
even though I know God is playing it on repeat
I haven’t seen her smile in a while
and I swear the moon sips scotch thinking of it
as if a post card from a time
when the sun would come around for a kiss
or two
she refuses to swallow her pride
shouting obscenities
and she doesn’t realize how much of a different story her eyes will tell
but I will continue to scrawl them onto the walls of my heart
like cave paintings that she will never see
but I can only hope that she
will smile that smile
that I haven’t had the pleasure of basking in for a while now.