to s.m.

to s.m.:

thank you. you made my friday worth it. the insights you offered, the jokes we shared, the laughs, the smiles, the genuine care - thanks for making me remember the beauty of getting to know people. at times like this, i have an astounding hope for us. and now i go to brush my teeth.



unheard, his sadness was only seen
in the shadows of his face,
the wrinkle of his nose and the
curling of his eyelids,
and his eyes surrounded by a black bag.
you could almost touch the tremble
in his voice,
the quaking of his finger as he
furiously wrote down the numbers he made in his head.

the glass walls invited the world to examine him,
so he did his best to hide himself from it.
the long coats, black, that covered his extremities,
the dark hats,
and most of all, the blank face;
but it could be read.

and there she came, smiling,
perhaps unknowingly into his presence,
or knowingly, seeing into the blankness
that was sometimes easily penetrated.

and when she opened her mouth,
he lost faith in despair.