Cascades
This house breathes and I'm not at all sure what that means.
But she smiled, and the world and my wonder along with it, stopped. Her hair swished around when she laughed for miles over and on the top of this sad old house’s worn and torn down tiles.
But the thing is, she smiled at nothing. She smiled at the empty jokes I made just to make her laugh at something in sight of her previous weariness and anxieties inspiring more frightening nightly self discoveries all handled quietly, never shared, always found and kept privately.
In these she discovered her real soul and stared at it through the eyes of a one with one containing the color of burnt charcoal.
Her hair stood out to me, though. It curled and told a story about her and it's one of those I'd just never ever want to close. Cascading down hallways like.. Oh. That's what that means.
She smiled again, brightly shining in our dull colored class. I'd been staring again. I really need to stop doing that.
Copyright © Marco Soto | Year Posted 2017
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