Yes,
I am happy.
For the first time
in a long, long while.
I read her words,
they make me smile,
every **** time,
I can't resist her,
even if I tried.
And I remember
how down I was
the last time,
the time before,
and the time before that.
But I found
how happiness is easy.
Just doing things
I want to do,
the way I want
to do them.
When I wake up,
I know this time,
I have found my sun,
and she shines just for me.

and I finally found my heart
                       in your junkyard...

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

She is all
I do not want her to be.