Happiness is a temporary high–
A string that keeps me aloft.
It doesn’t linger like misery.
It doesn’t pervert like hate.
It doesn’t comfort like sadness.
It’s bubbles like liquid fire and light, and it spills out of the top.
Happiness, for me, is always fickle.
The moment I name it, it flees.
Named demons do the same.
Even dryads fly to their trees.
I thought it was a state of being
Until you were wrenched from me
And took my kite’s spool with you.
Not your fault, really.
I tied my red thread to you;
Tethered high, full of fire and light.
“I’m happy?”
Uncertain, dubious, terrifically ecstatic.
Yes. I was happy. You made it easy.
Happiness doesn’t loiter and
Neither does it hold or corrupt.
Even if my string is severed–
If gusts come and go, come and go–
If I refuse to fall yet–
I’ll whip a bit higher above your footprints
On a temporary high above the temporary high
And I will be happy again
Until I tie myself to someone else
That I will be careful about naming
For the same reasons I named
Happiness a leash…
When it is only the wind.
The Bluejay Nest 