Moving On

Is this what being happy feels like,

Smiling at the thought of someone’s message

Awaiting their every gaze

Looking into their eyes with love and

Seeing the same love reflecting back at you?

Is this what being happy feels like,

Being appreciated for the minimum things

Feeling butterflies in your stomach

Wanting to show them off to your friends

And standing proudly by their side as they introduce you?

Is this what being happy feels like,

A bittersweet kind of realisation

That the other person treats you the way you ought to be treated,

A salty kind of greed to prove to your past self and other

That you’ve happily moved on and found someone that loves you as much as you do them?

Is this what being happy feels like,

Shouting “who does that” or “this is unreal”

at every sweet gesture and every touch,

“Most people do that,

You’ve just never seen it before,

To no fault of your own?”

But are you ever truly happy,

When you know somewhere down the line

You’re waiting for it to fuck up

Because it always does, and somehow,

Whoever it is you were unhappy with

Has trained you to think that way

“You never have to apologise”,

He says, calmingly, interrupting your spiral,

Taking you in his arms and kissing your forehead like his lips belonged there,

“You’re beautiful just the way you are”,

And I suppose,

That’s when you realised,

How truly happy you now were.