His breath hitches as he laughs and I can't help but stare a little while longer.

i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.