Pep and the Talk That Follows...

There is a certain darkness following your smile lines with my fingers knowing the fine teeter between joy and pain amongst five o'clock shadows and brooding always waiting there in undercurrents. I break a million smiles on your cheeks all of which reflect me with observation and adoration only to be still when your back is turned from me, pulled back by the rumble of something darker, something on the verge of internal collapse. And so you talk of my death and the shutting down you will do closing blinds, windows, eyes, heart, mind perfunctory living and saluting the world with a stiffened hand while swirls of happiness land in leaves at your feet only to be stepped on, unnoticed, and passed by. But I say to you now, as my touch warms the smile lines, You're only half way to living right. at. this moment anyway. The undercurrents must be quelled, must be compelled to quietly step back, making room for the present and the very possibility that happiness is floating in the air simply waiting to be caught and attached to smiles. For we are all the moments stored in us at random, processed and obliterated into memory cells to be hauled to the surface of our faces and brought to life by the purity of expression, held by smiles and eye twinkles in remembrance... I say this out loud to the reflection in the mirror on the verge of a cracked expression, fingers softly resting on this face, on the verge of realizing it is my own in the making and breaking, daily.