I'm beginning to fear
That happiness isn't mine.
I feel it when it comes to visit.
I wear it as a cloak,
Billowing and soft,
Tied loosely with a ribbon
Dangling around my neck.
The smooth lines
And Jersey fabric
Are enough to fool
Even my heart,
The harshest critic.
But just as easily,
It slips away.
All I want is to cry it out.
To let the sorrow
And the ache
Evaporate.
To give in.
To take part.
To know happiness for real.
But I always feel so distant.
It never seems to make any sense.
Because I should be so happy.
Because I have so much
To be happy about.
But I feel the shift in music
Like a shift in my chest.
And I've smiled so big
And felt so much love.
But now,
Right in this sadness,
I'm a wafer,
I'm a brittle mess,
And my limbs and
The emotions that move them
Are constant and unkind.
Because fear is real.
And so is loss.
And I can't seem to cope
Without whiskey or kisses,
Without things or satisfaction
That equally break me down.
I want more than anything
To heal.
I want more than anything
To love.
I want more than anything
To let the trained kind words
That are sweeping
Against my soul settle in
Sos I can morph and mend.
But they are outside of me.
They are from the place
That happiness has left.
And where it flies back to.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
I'm beginning to fear
That happiness isn't mine.
I feel it when it comes to visit.
I wear it as a cloak,
Billowing and soft,
Tied loosely with a ribbon
Dangling around my neck.
The smooth lines
And Jersey fabric
Are enough to fool
Even my heart,
The harshest critic.
But just as easily,
It slips away.
All I want is to cry it out.
To let the sorrow
And the ache
Evaporate.
To give in.
To take part.
To know happiness for real.
But I always feel so distant.
It never seems to make any sense.
Because I should be so happy.
Because I have so much
To be happy about.
But I feel the shift in music
Like a shift in my chest.
And I've smiled so big
And felt so much love.
But now,
Right in this sadness,
I'm a wafer,
I'm a brittle mess,
And my limbs and
The emotions that move them
Are constant and unkind.
Because fear is real.
And so is loss.
And I can't seem to cope
Without whiskey or kisses,
Without things or satisfaction
That equally break me down.
I want more than anything
To heal.
I want more than anything
To love.
I want more than anything
To let the trained kind words
That are sweeping
Against my soul settle in
Sos I can morph and mend.
But they are outside of me.
They are from the place
That happiness has left.
And where it flies back to.
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