The Way It Would Feel. – Shawn Scott Smith

July 27, 2026

1.

The way the leaves falls into a circular motion,
Mist in the forest where lurking eyes shine through,
Thinking about the paths we made, still here,
Long after the fall of everything else,
A dictators tank left rotting, the metal,
Poisons the ground, it’s hatred for life, in the job description,
Still rings true, after the last bombs fell.

2.

And the arch of your neck, lifted by down pillows,
Unparalled in your comfort, the way your breath catches magic,
Infused with every microplastic known to man,
The makeup seeps in between your lines,
Inside your bones, making you fragile,
Still feels good, after the mirror reflection shows you falsehoods.

3.

Baby, let’s just go down to the corner store, It’s gonna be open by the time mass lets out, all the Catholics will pour in fresh off Jesus blood, singing Hymns they just heard on the Am radio dial. You could tell them about Spotify, or bluetooth speakers, but the spit of the radio static is ingrained in them, much like the ten commandments, something about loving what you know and knowing what you love.
Baby, it’s hard to change the stripes on a tiger, I’ve mentioned that to you before, you know?

4.

Seafoam crystalize as they pass into the murky depths,
Sunlight barely caressing them anymore,
A lone seagul overhead, circling, waiting,
Its distant ancestry remembers the children laughing,
Dropping their sugars and dopamine into the sand as play.
And now, just the waves, echoing against the shore.

5.

The bones in your fingers, laced into marriage,
The wrinkles calling as a tree ages,
That wedding dress , pressed and stored,
In a moment of memory, for how you used
To make each other feel alive.

6.

Sugar, don’t act like we aren’t watching the world burn together,
Each episode of a stale sitcom left on repeat on a dying cell phone battery.
How we grow fond of celebrity, and happiness becomes the goal,
To look like them, independent of any concern but platitudes,
Sugar, we have everything we need as we are, I ain’t one to say don’t dream,
But imagine, the way it would feel free to be content.