My smile is a dead language.
It used to mean many things.
It was interpreted, adored.
It isn’t real anymore
A vestige of a time long passed.
Now it just represents death
A shadow of the happiness
I used to know.

I used to love fireworks.
I could sit out on the beach
On the fourth of july
And watch them for hours
The brilliant flashes of color
And seconds after, the crackling and booming.

That’s love, my dear.
Pretty one minute,
Seemingly endless and infinite
But destined for destruction.
A flash and then,
Before you even hear it explode,
the colors fade away.
if you even blink one moment-
gone.
Then the boom
Lagging seconds behind
The realization that it is over.
Nothing will ever sparkle that brilliantly again.

What you’re watching are elements lit on fire
Blasted through the air in a blaze of glory
Cascading back to earth burnt up and used.

I used to be alive
blissful, free.
But once reduced to ash
I cannot be lit up again.


The language of my smile
Ceased being spoken
When he stopped listening.