Hit with bits and pieces of some semblance of a positive feeling.
Balloons filled with passion that pop when they hit a popcorn ceiling.

The atomic number of helium isn't even divisible by three.
Not in any rational sense,
but I'm no mathematician.

Trapped in the essence of an uplifting feeling.
A rubber outer limit that's been oxygen stealing.
Poke one hole and it quickly goes limp.

Kick start a new theory contingent on the displacement of one's lips.
Perhaps I could retest this hypothesis -
Reiterate the circumstances that brought this particular person to partake in it,
but I'm no scientist.

Just a wordsmith caught up on the jargon of his condescending contemporaries,
while weighing the vagaries of his own shifting feelings.
Little more than a vagabond tripping on the limits of his own vocabulary.

Attempting to describe something simple outside of the common vernacular;
Superceding shallow words to invoke the more spectacular . . .