your eyes smile. it is as simple as that. there is little to envy and a lot to give. laughter abundant; bouncing off each other like yellow and pink helium balloons; the green looks blue and the blue looks brown.
when your soul is happy, you no longer pine for attention. you no longer feel the need to be honest; because at the very core of honesty lies innocence and at the very core of innocence lies your tiny little, fluttering heart. that will convince you of how sore honesty is - for a mother whose son is far away in a strange, treacherous land of struggle; for a father who cannot help but worry, for a son who travels solitary lanes of aspirations and a daughter who blogs about it.
when your soul is happy, your heart and mind becomes one; like those waves crashing into rocks, caressing those edges; transforming them into pebbles. into pebbles of faith. into pebbles of determination.
do not feed me honesty.
it is inherent within me; but when you make an exhibition of what should have never surfaced; my heart aches and my soul is unhappy. my heart aches and my soul is unhappy because your heart aches and your soul is unhappy. because your soul envies. because your soul is honest.
and your words are no longer happy. an unhappy soul can only write misery. an unhappy soul can only write honesty. have you ever tried to be honest when you have felt happiness. you lie and you own it. you are not honest about it. but when misery, sorrow, pain, and struggle hit you hard, you become an honest straight/gay/lesbian/bisexual/girl/teen/boy/dude/old/young/married/divorced/single/widow/war-hero/victim/survivor...
my soul is happy when your soul is; and when i say, there is no condition to it: you do not have to lie, you do not have to be honest.
when your soul is happy, you no longer pine for attention. you no longer feel the need to be honest; because at the very core of honesty lies innocence and at the very core of innocence lies your tiny little, fluttering heart. that will convince you of how sore honesty is - for a mother whose son is far away in a strange, treacherous land of struggle; for a father who cannot help but worry, for a son who travels solitary lanes of aspirations and a daughter who blogs about it.
when your soul is happy, your heart and mind becomes one; like those waves crashing into rocks, caressing those edges; transforming them into pebbles. into pebbles of faith. into pebbles of determination.
do not feed me honesty.
it is inherent within me; but when you make an exhibition of what should have never surfaced; my heart aches and my soul is unhappy. my heart aches and my soul is unhappy because your heart aches and your soul is unhappy. because your soul envies. because your soul is honest.
and your words are no longer happy. an unhappy soul can only write misery. an unhappy soul can only write honesty. have you ever tried to be honest when you have felt happiness. you lie and you own it. you are not honest about it. but when misery, sorrow, pain, and struggle hit you hard, you become an honest straight/gay/lesbian/bisexual/girl/teen/boy/dude/old/young/married/divorced/single/widow/war-hero/victim/survivor...
my soul is happy when your soul is; and when i say, there is no condition to it: you do not have to lie, you do not have to be honest.
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