he asked her if she was happy
a simple question
with a simple answer
but nothing is simple with her, is it?
nothing at all.
she is a happy person
anyone can tell that
but he knows her better
thus the question
loaded, like a gun
straight to her heart
causing her to examine
causing her to explain
causing her to refrain...
for a bit
what does happy really mean?
she laughs and it's genuine
she smiles and it's real
she loves and it's all-consuming
she feels passion and it burns
but she also cries and her tears are like acid
dripping down her cheeks into her soul
she rages like a bull in her own mind
tearing up so many things she's built
there are parts of her that will never be whole again
if you have pieces missing, how can you really be found
he sees so many parts of her, yet there are still areas unknown
areas he, nor anyone? will ever reach into
probably wouldn't want to
yet, she smiles and she's glad for it
her happiness is genuine, yet so is her eternal grief
it's a constant striking of a balance
and no, right at this moment in time,
she is not happy, yet she is a happy person
she is not fulfilled within her soul
and she struggles with the pieces that are missing
and the question of will they always be so far away
so far out of reach
waiting for the one that can come to her and teach, not take
for a lifetime, not a mere moment
her happiness is forever fleeting
here today, gone tomorrow
her smile rarely wavers
her laughter even less so
he must know that behind that smiles he loves so
lurks a dark and sinister place
in the form of a happy face
no, she is not happy
but she is reaching for it
and will never stop
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