My arm felt right under her head.
Hair gently falling, flowing with the breeze.
The back and forth sway, of the hammock.
Warmth. Love. Happiness.
But happiness,
Happiness will make you miserable.
Expectations.
When my arm is solemn,
there is no breeze,
And my hammock is long gone,
That happiness will mock me,
Laugh in my face,
Taunt me until I fall.
It is relentless,
But I'm glad we had that moment.