You are dearly open arms
dressed as you usually are dressed,
and I fetally lie in your arms
naked and unexpectedly strong.

I am merely weeping for I don't know why,
with my eyes closed and almost smilling
I am not dead, yet disturbing you
I am not casually asleep either
I am only introducing my body to you.

There is but intimacy in the atmosphere
and a false sense of trust,
Well I let you blow my mind again
because I am full of love and your breath
is blowing my forehead dry.

We stay immersed for a while and still.
Stunned, we stay, before life comes back
and we open our eyes again and
I have to feel ashamed now
(being naked) for I don't know you.
I've got to get back, dress up and begin
the average silent mourning and woe
that nevertheless accompany constant life.

Happiness is only those precious breathers
that are even more real and definitely more precious
than life itself and the light and the sun but
so unfortunate without that routine.

Happiness is to be surrounded by arms
And happiness is comfort and
closed eyes next to closed eyes.

Shared arms and shared breaths and shared shame
and them who shared a marginalized and really odd moment in hell.

Happiness is to be not interested in the existence
or non existence of the possibility to die,
because you are just reborn, in the most awkward way!

Happiness is your heartbeat to dare to be careless
towards your death and towards the rest of your fears.

Happiness is to no longing no more
because everything is here now.

Happiness is no more than two synchronised
breaths together with closed eyes because happiness
is filling our hearts with courage and we don't mind
to view our inner shadows anymore.

We don't mind

Happiness, at last and so sadly very least, is the most fair price
that we are paid for our empty lives

How naive it is to take everything for granted, really!
Don't you know that everything won't last?
It never does...

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