insubstantial grief
or depression bare
that clutches at my heart
never quite letting go.
like loneliness and
pain, and winter rain.
and for every morbid fantasy
i've sold my soul to,
i find that it's happiness
i've always been afraid of.
you're like those stories
i've saved deep inside of me,
unsullied and bare
like the sky washed clean.
i've let grief cut into me,
because happiness felt lethal
i've learnt to feel less
with every wound that's healed.
and now you bring me joy,
paint my skies with silliness
and laughter, and surprise
and songs i've forgotten
and i learn why regret
has never been a choice
why happiness has always
waited for the last dance.
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