Lietaus Vaikas

When they say “smile”,

Your smile is hollow.

Your smile,

Your eyes,

They’re empty.

Your mouth makes a crescent,

Your eyes slant and crinkle.

When they say “smile”,

Your smile is hollow.

When we smile,

Our hands meet.

Our fingers cross.

Our faces, set,

Our foreheads touch.

When we smile,

We may be crying,

Or we may be tired.

But when we smile,

We are warm

Inside.

Even though

I act like it’s the most

Wonderful,

Exciting

Thing,

I’m so scared.

I can already 

Feel

The loneliness.

I climbed a tree

To reach a cloud,

And on that cloud,

Oh, what I found,

I found a sound,

A screech, a pound,

A singing, ringing little mound,

A softly thudding, budding beat

Was lying there beneath my feet-

And so persistant,

On repeat,

A crying, gentle little treat;

And here I find the greatest part:

The little thudding

Was yout heart.

You look pained,

Out, into the distance,

Your eyes not really seeing,

Your jaw

Clenched tight enough.

You’d rather not be here.

No matter,

You’re already somewhere else.

We are the two kids

On a swing set.

We are forced endure

Each other’s highs,

Each other’s lows,

But for an instant,

Each time,

We meet exactly in the middle.

We hang up photographs

Of moments we want to remember,

The just-special-enough moments

Like the time we ran to the corner and took turns

Standing on the mailbox,

Or the time we took the eggs of that poor mother

And dropped them in another’s nest,

Or the time you bit my ear

And left a big, red mark,

And then kissed me on the cheek in apology.

But we never take pictures of the moments

That are really special to us,

The ones worth so many words that

Almost no words at all

Can sum it all up,

And still have said too much.

Like that time I was crying in the hallway and you took me in your arms

And wiped my tears,

And you didn’t ask me what was wrong,

Or that time

I fell in love with you,

On that bus, when I fell asleep on your shoulder

While you were telling me about your dream to raise

A few cows in your grandmother’s farm, and to make sure

Your grandmother had enough to eat and smile every day,

Because you loved her very much,

(Kind of like the warmth I was feeling for you),

Or that time you kissed my palm,

For luck, and smiled,

And sprinted to join your buddies in the boat

(The time you rowed first place).

We never take photographs of moments like that

Because our hearts know what our hearts know

And we don’t need to be reminded,

Because every instant remains.

Your hands are selfish.

They graze upon your arms,

Through innocent motions,

And brush your thighs,

And touch your lips.

Your hands are

The most selfish part of you,

Too proud

To let my fingers through.