I complained about pity shit
As if we were going to last
But he didn't even give me a chance
But I guess that played a part in it.
I remember weekends of nothing
But sex
And drinking real fast.
And it's times like that
Which make me think of what happiness is.
Cause with every shot
I try to think of a happy thought
And one could be him
Or something else
But I know happiness
Is doing something
That makes you feel yourself
It's comfort
And habit
At the same time,
Being adventurous.
It's communicating
With another human
Who just "gets it".
Happiness is singing.
It's learning something new
And realizing for the first time
That You got it!
It's people reading your writing.
It's a crush that makes you feel
Some type of way
And the little hints
that they feel the same.
Happiness is a song
That everyone loves
And when it's playing
You'll find most singing along.
It's making people laugh...
Or smile.
It's being alone for awhile
Yet still content.
And I recall
There once was a man
Who asked me
While I was working
If I talk to myself
I told him yes;
But then he asked
If I ever listened
And I realized I didn't.
But I guess that played
A part in
Why I complain about pity shit
Instead of enjoying what I know is
Contemporary Happiness.
2/26/19
©lunarmarie
L