A brief history of how I lost my grin.

Your mouth is a drying lake
floating you over your mind
Giving you thirst
Each time you speak
Detangling you
Who you wanna be
Your arms
Your thoughts, your train.
Unable to drown
In one glimpse of world's metaphors
Unable to stop by one morning
And run away from inhaling
dust of the burning and the weak.

My heart is a deep ocean
Breathing literary mistakes
Echos of the garden in my chest
And my very fortune of cool air
Feeding on leftovers on color Palettes
Sniffing bottles of eyes' salt and pepper
My heritage from the rebellious and the vulnerable 
Drowning me
Drowning you
You're shouting for help
Your oxygen tube is my left lung.
Inside my head
we coexist
Inside my body
you give off
Your rock-bottom heat
Inside my mouth
your name's staining my teeth
And I don't grin.
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