“Happiness is a sweet, sticky, toffee–  
Flavored mess.” His words ghosted in my ears.

“And I’m discontent, here in this abbey,
To sit and wait for your unhappy fears.
I’d much rather have peppermint kisses,
Sharp and pricking sweet on your supple tongue.”
My voice: bold, unfazed by his many faces.

His laughter filled the still space and rung,
Alarm bells of impending disaster.
Unsure of the steps, we, unfaltering,
Continued on; trusting in our anger
So we might wake.  

How long were we sleeping?
Forget rose-colored glasses! I wanted
To see us in all our colors faded.