Poetry and some other shit

party balloons and cheap streamers

sometimes i sit

and i listen to the silence.

it's empty.

nothing fills it up.

no heartbreaking music,

no tear-jerking words,

no jokes inspiring laughter

 that blows up the silence like a hot air balloon

colorful and bright against the sky,

demanding attention, 

demanding your laughter's addition 

to the new chorus as it 

performs the most

elaborate 

song and dance compilation, 

distracting you as it 

banishes the silence

that once pressed the breath out of every smile. 

and i wish i knew

how to fill it.

because there are so many things there,

standing in line

waving their tickets angrily

shouting for the opportunity to rise into the silence and breathe new life into its stillness,

banging on the door, 

demanding to be let in 

wanting to clean the dust from emotions that are

covered in cobwebs and memories. 

and 

finally

one manages to break down the door. 

the rest trample in, acting like children,

touching everything, not knowing what's fragile, caring even less.

and it feels good. 

because all of a sudden, you're smiling, for real. 

and holy fucking shit guys, it feels good to smile.

i missed it. 

but still, there's the fear that a storm will blow through, 

forcing everyone out, 

likely just as the shyer ones had begun to venture inside. 

or perhaps not a storm,

perhaps one day it closes for construction, for weeks on end,

giving the dust and spiderwebs plenty of time to regroup,

and making the smile feel like less than a memory.

so i'm cautiously happy.

the smile still feels good.

they're still all playing with everything, enjoying what is new.

i want it to stay open all year long, for there to be music and guests and sunlight,

where cobwebs and dust are a far off thought. 

it used to be like that.

it will be again. i'm trying my best, i promise.

it's all i can do, here with my party balloons and cheap streamers. 

but the music is loud, nonetheless.

and it fills up the silence.