You would cry like there was no end, tears dipping in the broken smile until they clung on the very outline. We were sat in the morning shade, sketching me with your lead in hand; you see me. I’m empty.
Across the field the thickets were empty, the crisped, golden summer would end as though the teeming life were mislead. The sun would fade like your smile, then only a glimpse would escape the shade
and stay with me as a furtive outline, inescapable in nightmares. This outline leaves my bed covers breathless and empty, waiting for your hand to guide. You lead. I question whether this will end: When will you stop taunting me with a smile unable to slide, sketch and shade?
I’d try to broach the shadow of the shade, yet my eye cannot catch you. Just an outline of that torn heart is left in the smile leaving the space more than empty until I decide to have it end by picking up the scattered bits of lead.
Across the golden fields I would lead, looking back onto the folds of the shade. The tall grass would make my gaze end, leaving our tree grazing over the outline. The field’s thickets were undoubtedly empty. I head on home. I can still see the smile.
In our child I can see your smile, as it was before you were misguidedly lead and left me here feeling alone, empty. I see on the walls how you used to shade, how darkness clung to the drawing’s outline. There I see that you knew light would end.
You always seem to end with the same smile. I am the outline that you embrace with shades until the skin is lead. You left me empty.