We would always be together.
Either at your place or mine.
I would draw or clean.
You would do your homework.
I might cook you a meal.
You might be playing games.
I was at my place.
You were at yours.
I wanted to draw you.
So, I started.
It looked okay.
But your smile wasn't right.
I couldn't remember what it looked like.
I knocked on your door.
I asked you to smile.
You asked why.
I told you I couldn't remember.
So you gave me a smile to remember.
You were doing your homework.
I was drawing you.
I couldn't remember your smile.
So I asked you again.
You didn't because I should remember by now.
The truth is, I don't want to remember your smile.
I want to be able to go to you to see it.
I want to go to you and watch your smile.
I don't want to remember it until I can't go see it anymore.
That's when I'll remember your smile.
But for now, I'll forget.
Then I go to you.
Just to see you smile.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Joy
PoetryI never spent time seeking joy. I only spent time making a bed comfortable enough in sadness to bare it. Now, I'll see and work at finding joy. This is a continuation of "We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human".
