Inside The Smile

If the flicker of a smile chose your bough to dance upon, would you allow it? Would you embrace or reject the curve that threatens to take your lips and mould them to a foreign shape, a curve, a line with ends that turn upwards...

For so long those lines have been chained, captured, imprisoned; made to believe that the shape of an emotion a little lighter than the hatred possessed in thy own self will never be seen again.

Boxed in, the lid closed... suffocating the sound of laughter, no longer allowed to play; the tune of a soul which has lost all colour. A soul which now refuses to know or claim its owner. If you could call it living, the only thing in an empty shell. A name, a face, but no life. The light betrayed by something more beautiful than words can describe. For words no longer have meaning, they exist, they're said, but they leave the thickness of a darkened corner more empty than it was without description. Yes, you know this feeling. Although we refuse to admit it, once in our lives, before the cool breeze of hatred inhaled itself into our lungs, we knew what it was like to have this.

To love, and be loved.

Not by another, depending on one other who may never come is a promise to thy heart of a tomorrow. For one is always coming, yet never arrives. No, this love was of one-self. Not the kind that finds itself in the reflection of a mirror, or gait, or material possession. This is a love of a deeper kind, this is a love which once allowed the song of our soul to play. It allowed the shape of a smile to dance upon our lips. I allowed us to love, and be loved.

Nevermore.