I promise
this poem won't be
as tragic as the others.
I won't sneak
the spine
out of your smile.
I won't midnight sky
pour shadows
over your sun rays.
let me wake
that sun of yours.

I promise not to place
no sad stories
in that space
beneath your chest
that I hijack so often.

I promise not to
coffin dig up
my past dreams
post marked
maybe.
But baby,
this box cutter pen
cradles hearts
so well.

Carves the dark
so well.

But I promise
not take it out
on account
that you say
sharp things
make you nervous
and I need you
to know
that i'm working
on not hurting.

And you say slim
why don't you
take a day off
from this poetry thing?

So here I am
standing staff stance
at the banks
of a page's shore
not trying
to part tears
only pouts.

Only speaking
to sprout smiles
since I know
how uncomfortable
you get
when I spit
them sad poems.

or them mad poems.

So today
I'll put away
my soap opera tales
and tattoo some red
over my blues
for you.

and for a once
i'll forget my worries
and you remind me
how well my smile
reflects in your eyes.