The Pointless Book

Pitcture Of Happiness

Hmm thinking about old friends

I still do my lipstick the way you taught me, look for your face in every crowd, start to tell a story and feel your name die in my mouth
No amount of anger erases from the way we hid in the trees as kids, how you'd run to the door hands full with my favourite sweets

Your smile is my picture of happiness, your name the first I learned to write

I miss you like a growing pain, miss scuffed shoes and bruised knees and endless trees to climb. Miss when the world wasn't bigger than each other