Blurts In The Night

I don't believe in happy endings. I don't.

I believe in glimpses of happy, caught out the corner of your eye.
A scent wafting past, gone as soon as you turn your head to discover the source.
A voice in a dream, soft and low and warm, but you can't make out the words.

I believe in the dream of happy, but not the reality.

Reality is happy without the soft focus lens. All crashing waves and jagged rocks and broken bones and bleeding flesh.

That's what's real.

Give me the dream of happy, but not too much, and not too often, lest i lose all sense of proportion and begin to think that it can be mine.
 
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