What does happiness mean to you?

What does happiness mean to you?

A shout-out to this lovely blogger (Manessah B.) for nominating me for Blogger Recognition Award! I nominate honorgreenwood. Click here for the rules – RULES.
For the rest of you, check out both of these amazing blogs, read the poem below and tell me what happiness means to you! I hope you enjoy.

“What does happiness mean to you?”

“For me,
Happiness is when in the night,
The room gets too cold,
My dog crawls onto my bed,
And falls asleep right beside me.
I place my hands softly on his heaving chest,
And smile as I close my eyes.
Happiness is when the love of my life,
Is giggling and jumping around,
With me,
And I get a whiff of honey and vanilla
Every time I hold her in my arms,
And bury my face in her hair.
Happiness is a Christmas tree,
And my family helping me decorate it,
Seeing their eyes light up with the feeling of being home,
As we chatter about memories,
Of my childhood, of family romances,
Or simply of last Christmas.
Happiness is watching six friends,
And laughing at their sarcastic comments.
It is hot chocolate, a shot of vodka,
And the one person you don’t mind getting drunk with.
It is a starry night, cold wind,
And sleeping on the empty terrace.
It is not being empty inside.
Happiness is the feeling of falling love with everything.

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Related post : A guide towards self love.

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Despite being six vodka shots down,
I was sober as I called you.
It isn’t possible to drunk-dial you,
Because you are like a good night’s sleep.
Just the thought of you slows down my heart-beat,
and makes me feel at home.
I don’t need to be drunk around you,
as I tell you everything anyway.
I’m not afraid of blabbering on and on,
Like a tape on repeat,
Because you’ve said that I am your favorite song.
I do everything with you,
that I wouldn’t even dream of, unless drunk.
You are a glass of water,
for every shot that I have.
You’re salt and lime,
and my poetry’s rhyme.
If I am so alive with you,
How can liquor make drunk
as I call you?

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Whisky Words: Project (13)

This is Submission THIRTEEN of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway). The winner will be announced on 1st of April.


Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve dreamt of you,
But I have never before woken,
With such a lingering sadness on my tongue,
That tastes of all the words we left unsaid,
And my head heavy with memories,
I had attempted to forget long ago.

Yet I know it is no one’s fault but my own,
For lying awake until five in the morning,
Allowing myself to be intoxicated,
By far too many thoughts of you.

– Kirstan Decker (blog)


Just read it till the end, please! ❤

Goodbyes can be such a pain in the ass.
I’m not ready for it.
I cannot believe that
Your intoxicating eyes
Won’t be my morning sun anymore.
Your heavy breath
Won’t to be the first thing
You share with me anymore.
We won’t enjoy long walks,
And windy drives,
Crazy fights and funny sights anymore.

I’m not ready for it.
I cannot let go of you.
Memories won’t suffice.
I remember the time we first met.
You hugged me, and kinda danced too.
The first day we spent together,
Ice cream and chill,
Our favourite thing.
The first time we got wet
As it rained,
And you taught me how much fun it could be.
I’m drunk all the time,
You make me sober.

I am not ready for it.
I need you.
I need to hold your hands
As if they were a part of me.
I need you to brighten my days,
And lonely dark nights.
Eating won’t be fun anymore,
Without you around to steal my food.
Who will be my alarm clock,
The only one I never want to snooze?

I am not ready for it.
I’m drunk all the time,
You make me sober.
You’re not just a pet
Your family.
Don’t die on me.

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Related post : Snow.

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Kisses and cravings.

“I’ll make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.” – Leo Christopher

The first time I kissed her, I lit up like a Christmas tree. Heat rushed to my cheeks, my cold hands warmed up, and I had goosebumps anyway.

Right before we kissed, I spent quite some time looking at her eyes. I noticed how her eyelashes curved like the corner of her lips, how her eyes were restless like the wind before a storm, how her skin made small crinkles around her eyes, and how her lips were chapped. I looked into her dancing eyes, and could hear my heart pumping the music. I grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer like the flowers moving towards the sun. I pulled her in so that our waists were touching, and our face were only inches apart. I looked at her biting her lips, I felt her fingers cold against my neck, I placed my hand on her cheeks and leaned in.

I leaned in and kissed her and felt like this was the last time I would. The rush of blood in my veins made me hold her closer and tighter to make sure she really stays. She tasted like a sunny afternoon, chilly beaches, and tanned skin. She tasted like the wine we would open on date nights. She tasted like late night cravings, and throat burning scotch. She tasted like wild sex, funny jokes and strip poker. She tasted of shooting stars and petty wishes. She tasted like a forever.

So I kissed her passionately and tried to say the things I’d failed to say before. It seemed to be easier when no words were involved. I let my cold fingers tell her that I’d give her wintry nights, cozy blankets and hot fries. I let the loud thumping of my heart against hers tell her that I’d be just as thrilled when I kiss her after a date thirty years down the line. I let my eyelashes against her eyes tell her that above all, my only wish is to have her forever. I tell her that I’d always stay with her and watch Netflix and drink hot chocolate, rather than going out to meet people we don’t like.

I felt it. Her chest against mine, I felt her heart beating with my heart and for the first time, I realized we were both alive, as she pulled on my hair.

“The way you feel when you kiss her (him) for the first time. Like fire within your bones, like your soul has returned to the water, like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again.” – Nikita Gill.

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Related post : Broken.

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