The curvature of your smile
Is a scythe or a dagger to my heart
When it's straight
It stabs me with fierce and merciless
Fear and sorrow
When it's a summer night's crescent
Moon
It still wounds me with
A hollowing absence
Of its breathtakingly
short reign.

Still
I embrace it
I rush right in
And let your scythe pierce
My soul again and again
Because without it
Without your smile
I'd be numb
I'd be empty
And brimming
With nothing
But pain.