Will you smile with me, love? I'm exhausted, desperately clinging to the memory of how I feel when I'm with you and have forgotten how everything else is. It nearly escapes me when you fade behind my mental curtain.
Please, smile with me and make me recall the sound of your heartbeat and the rumble of your voice. Smile, and help me misplace that minor melody composed of everything that's wrong. (As often as I hear it, I don't particularly care for the song.)
No! I don't want to hear it anymore!
Smile, love, please, just smile. I will beg for your bliss, because that's the closest I can get to glimpsing my own. Smile for me, and I will follow you, if a bit behind. (Only the oblivious forge blindly ahead.)
But you're concealed behind the curtain now, and I can only see your shadow. I'm exhausted, deafened by that minor melody that screams how everything else is, and slowly forgetting how it feels to be with you. Even if you smiled for me, it couldn't be with me, because I wouldn't know. (I could beg and be obliged, but I will never know.)
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