Happiness

I fear I have been happy too often,
scoffed far too much of pleasure,
that perhaps it is recompense now
to soak in tubs of misery
where bubbles hide
all those little imperfections
that by and large
I like to remain oblivious of.

I think I shall enjoy the moribund,
wallow in my new found
and (abject) folly.

On second helpings,
I choose bowls of smiles,
that make my face look fatter
and my tummy slimmer,
I see a glimmer and I shimmer,
I never could write dirges.






Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 451 times
Written on 2009-07-23 at 09:08

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