Happiness does not fade away
It doesn’t slip slowly through your fingers
Or disappear over the horizon like the sunset.
Happiness is snatched from unsuspecting hands while they sleep,
Kidnapped in the dark of night so you won’t see it leave.
In time you won’t remember it shape in your bed
Or its warmth on your skin,
You wont recall the strain on your mouth that laughter smiles.
And only the idea of happiness will be missed.
My pen has run out of ink.
I stare at an empty page
And will my thoughts to make their mark.
My voice won’t carry them
Only paper can house these “things” in my heart.
I shall let them flow in my veins
Whispering throughout my body,
Reminding my muscles, my bones
The story of this ache.
Then maybe they will ooze from my fingers
To stain this blank page.
I can burn a piece of paper,
Lose it, keep it
File it at the back of my world in the cupboard above my bed.
But I have run out of ink
No words will come.