happiness
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I don’t have to say much to feel. You understand my silence as music, and when you speak, I do not miss a beat. I contemplate my desire for you, suppressing it beneath my desperate need for simplicity. I don’t need you to make me happy, or to fix a part of me. I am
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The sound of the ivories being played lifts attention to my beating heart. The melody so sweet and without charm pierces my senses. I sing out into an open space, finding myself in a clearing where my wilted flowers lie. A once beautiful meadow built for color and life. I blame the sun, the moon,
Wishful Thinking 