Smile (2am thoughts)

And maybe
She smiles at you differently.
A sideways grin,
A crooked smirk,
A ready-made memory meaning more.
Maybe she grabs your hand,
Wraps her arms around your neck,
And you smile to yourself at her excitement.
Maybe she laughs a little harder,
And frowns a little deeper,
Apologises less and thanks you more.
Maybe she makes you forget the sleepless nights,
The faded scars,
The bottles littering the floor.
Or maybe you respond with more than a "fine" when she asks how you feel.
Do you say "great" now?
Are you "happy" with this new life?
Or have you opened up enough to say "sad"
"Mad"
"I'm fucking bad"

Perhaps she knows the feeling of kissing the tears that slide gently down your cheek, perhaps you have given her that chance.
Perhaps your arms are so littered with the dance that is her touch that you can't even see the memories that scar them.
Perhaps when she asks about the girl in yellow, you shrug in confusion, or perhaps you chuckle and think.
And maybe you remember
How I smiled differently.