We figure it all out then what do we do with it?
Carry it in our pockets waiting to find others who also have it.
We do not own this, nor does anyone lack it.
Everyone has their own sense of it.
You can find this in the broken,
And resting within the successful
It lays on streets of a busy city,
in the golden meadows
in our own reflection.
In the stillness,
in the silence,
in the chaos,
in the noise.

I explain my metaphors with metaphors
I don't know how else to express
My thoughts that sit in clutter drawers
And leave my mind a mess

If you don't understand my comparison
I'll just say it in a different way
My thoughts still shielded by a garrison
Suppressing things I need to say

There are different kinds of smiles.
The hurried, obligatory one
when you pass someone in a rush.
The empathetic one from strangers
as you're wiping tears in the grocery store isle.
There are wide smiles of reacquaintance,
and cheesy ones
from cheek to cheek
to make each other giggle.
Smiles to fill the void,
subtle smiles when you finish a task,
& smiles while driving away
from job interviews or dates.

One countenance,
a multitude of meanings.

but then there is your smile,
that is its own.
It speaks in volumes while
suggesting nothing at all.
I don't wonder why its there,
so beautifully carved into your skin,
nor do I question your thoughts.
Time stops.
It settles me
to see you
curving your lips
looking in my direction.
I can't help but reciprocate.