There is a touch of sadness in your eyes right now. You're talking about bad times through them, the things you've seen, and the things you've felt - whether directly or indirectly.
There floats an invisible ripple for a moment as I start to see a glimpse into something you don't want me to see. We both acknowledge that I know it exists but before conversation goes any further the topic has changed.
A bubble forms out of your words, a never ending stream of happiness. I believe it to be caused by our mutual enjoyment of one another, but I'm certain that you could find happiness in anything. It is a part of you. It is you.
Like the child with withered and torn clothing, too poor to eat meat from the market and survives on fruits and vegetables alone, yet even in the rainiest of rainy days he still finds himself outside dancing to invisible sounds and kicking a paper ball around the street. He knows things could be better for him - how could he not - but he still finds a means to be happy.
And that's what your lips tell me while you speak. They tell me there is happiness where the average person can find none. Even if it is just your head hitting the pillow at the end of a long, hard fought day.
The trouble comes when our eyes lock. The rest of the world floats away and it is just us. I forget that I don't like it so much here, I forget that I work a job that pays me the least I've made in my adult life. I forget that I have a past or a future or a present, for that matter. All I can do is focus on your words, taking them in, absorbing what I gain from you.
And then you do this little dance in the sand. Even though it is in the dead of the night, the hotel lights illuminate you as you laugh at yourself for being silly. I don't see silly, though. How could I see silly?
I see life.
And that, my dear, is why you're the most beautiful, the most pleasant poem that I've ever heard.
-Dustin S. Stover
There floats an invisible ripple for a moment as I start to see a glimpse into something you don't want me to see. We both acknowledge that I know it exists but before conversation goes any further the topic has changed.
A bubble forms out of your words, a never ending stream of happiness. I believe it to be caused by our mutual enjoyment of one another, but I'm certain that you could find happiness in anything. It is a part of you. It is you.
Like the child with withered and torn clothing, too poor to eat meat from the market and survives on fruits and vegetables alone, yet even in the rainiest of rainy days he still finds himself outside dancing to invisible sounds and kicking a paper ball around the street. He knows things could be better for him - how could he not - but he still finds a means to be happy.
And that's what your lips tell me while you speak. They tell me there is happiness where the average person can find none. Even if it is just your head hitting the pillow at the end of a long, hard fought day.
The trouble comes when our eyes lock. The rest of the world floats away and it is just us. I forget that I don't like it so much here, I forget that I work a job that pays me the least I've made in my adult life. I forget that I have a past or a future or a present, for that matter. All I can do is focus on your words, taking them in, absorbing what I gain from you.
And then you do this little dance in the sand. Even though it is in the dead of the night, the hotel lights illuminate you as you laugh at yourself for being silly. I don't see silly, though. How could I see silly?
I see life.
And that, my dear, is why you're the most beautiful, the most pleasant poem that I've ever heard.
-Dustin S. Stover
<3
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