There’s power in your smile.
With a responsibility so great,
I doubt its gravity
will ever press on your shoulders
like I do after every “late night” at work.
Kneading the padding of your collar bone,
until there’s just a pile of putty before me.
A quiet purring, as the air slips into each nostril
only to spill past lips that have shared
their paint on unknown mouths
as mine remains virgin.
As my fingers work, so does your smile.
A toothy flash that blinds me daily,
that power; oh how I wish that power
could stop the numbness of knowing,
falling on my conscience
like television snow.