happiness
Location
happiness
is a scary thing.
it can be taken
so easily,
ripped away
from your grasp,
snatched away
from your clutch
when you’re already
so comfortable,
so accustomed.
happiness
does not feel
like a state of mind;
it feels like a gift.
it feels like a high,
and what goes up
must always come down.
happiness
seems like a dream:
a lucky day,
a four-leaf clover,
a triple seven
on the slots.
and, like a snowflake
that lands on my tongue,
i feel so lucky
for that one moment,
until i feel it melt
inside my mouth.
and though this moment
is so short-lived,
though happiness
is a butterfly
that lands
at the edge of my hand¾
its beauty gracing me
for less than a second¾
i would kill,
i would lie,
i would starve,
i would die
for a taste,
for a touch
(how i want it so much)
of this sweet,
ripened apple,
to live in this chapel
of satisfaction,
of freedom.
i want them.
i need them.
these small moments
of happiness,
i crave them more
than words can say.
but here is my problem:
what if, one day,
i feel it, i obtain it,
and, much to my dismay,
it is not what i hoped for,
not what i prayed?
happiness
is a scary thing,
for it is, to me, but a dream.
what if i put it on a pedestal,
if it’s not what it seems?
have i lived my life
under false definitions?
is my pot of gold
just a bunch of superstitions?
happiness,
i am afraid to feel,
for i do not know
if it is even real.