I met happiness at a party
with flashing strobe lights
that illuminated all the faces in the room
with an on and off pattern that gave you
a headache if you stared.
We witnessed a faint spark ignite,
like someone playing with a lighter
for the first time.

Happiness smiled at the french words

that rolled off my tongue and held
my hands as the winter air warped
my fingers into icicles.
He kicked my feet under a table
in the loft that Ultra Foods housed,
where students escaped the crappy cafeteria
food and sweat over completing the homework
assignment they ignored for their 7th period class.

Time slipped through my fingers
when I was with him, and that empty space
overflowed with mid-day dates, laughter,
and a pinch of doubt.
My car became the home for our adventures,
and he sat in my passenger seat belting
the songs on 103.5, looking over between red lights
and stop signs, his hand clinging to mine.

Happiness called when only
the owls and crickets were awake
to eavesdrop as they scurried through their night shift.
He whispered "I love you" as the car door opened,
and pulled me back for a kiss before I could
close it to slice the tension forming.
He brewed adrenaline rushes, the kind that make your heart
beat in your ears and your hands won't stop
shaking until you remember to breathe.
My comfort zone shattered, and every day I
grew limitless, letting my fear
of losing him slither away.

He transformed to tears
streaming down my face,
turning my combed lashes into just four
glued together by Maybelline mascara.
His presence had collapsed
into ashes of memories on the floor
that I couldn't bring myself to clean,
and suddenly, there was an obscure presence
in the car at red lights and stop signs
as a ghost floated in my passenger seat.

The ashes blew away one afternoon

because someone had opened the bay window,
letting the fall leaves in the yard gush inside to clutter the floor,
replacing the memories and sticking to the living room carpet.