Happy

If walking through a store or possibly a home and spelling that perfume, I will instantly and forever think of you. Happy by Clinique. Something that doesn’t fit neatly into one category, much like you. Something that constantly revolves around musk or floral or orange, not easy to describe in any sense, much like you. But without a doubt it is a scent that is so delicate and happy, much like you or much like you strive to be. Perhaps you wear a perfume that smells like happy with some desire that this word will somehow sink through into your veins, sliding gracefully into your heart cavity and permanently reside there. That the happy you wear wont have to come from a perfume bottle anymore. You, someone who had a life that was not filled with too many bottles of happiness perfume. The loss you suffered, the decisions you were forced to make, the strength that almost seemed mandatory. The moves, the disease, the breakups, the harshness of the world in general. Maybe, just maybe that’s why you drench your clothing and the nape of your neck in something that promises the smell of happiness. If only you are able to inhale what happiness is supposed to smell like, then maybe, just maybe you could taste happiness, live happiness, feel happiness. Long ago this perfume seemed to be a mask. One that was obvious, one that you believed had people fooled. That if people smelled happiness on your freckled skin, then you believed that they would believe that you were in fact happy. But, lately the happiness of your perfume seem to express your inner thoughts and happiness rather than mask them. It seems to be an extension of the deepest part of your soul and, nothing makes me happier than knowing that now not only do you smell like happiness but you feel like happiness. Happiness for you doesn’t come out of a perfume bottle anymore, it comes out of your soul and that perfect smile of yours.

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Sunset

Not many things give me the same feeling as,

driving toward the orange sun and feeling the warm glow of the sunset wrapping me up in light like a blanket in the fall,

seeing the sky turn from ocean water blue to deep purples and cotton candy pink,

hearing the husky voice of Ray Charles singing about that crazy kind of love waft out of my radio,

knowing that I am driving toward home where the stars shine a little brighter and the trees a little greener,

having the windows cracked just enough to feel the cooling temperature of the evening whip through my hair and take away the pain of the today,

But oh my darling, you always do.