I write about feeling empty a lot.
                  But I never write about happy days.

Days of depth-defying conversations trailing on the edges of unknown.
                  Days of wanderlust and the need to explore.
Days of beauty and grace and everything right with this industrialized world.
                  Days of all of these horrendous emotions cascaded into an oblivion so deep in my soul that I can no longer see nor feel it.
Days of happy tears and sad laughter.
                   The best days full of painting in the breeze with music floating endlessly above and around me.
My favorite lazy days bursting at the seams with ****** Toons re-runs, hot chocolate, comfy pants and soft light seeping through windows.
                    Those were the days.