i miss the feeling of raw joy

the kind that lives in grass stains on your clothes

and bruises from falling off your bike

and sunshine warming the back of your neck

the kind that makes you believe

in eyelashes and wishbones and birthday candles

not that your wish will come true,

or that you can make it come true

the kind that you find in one place

and when you leave, you can do nothing but crave it

because nothing can make you feel the way you felt at that time

and then you start to feel lost in a place you used to call home

so you close your eyes, choosing to shut yourself out

from all the things that used to bring a smile to your face

people say to make lemonade out of lemons

be the sun’s rays in the middle of a rainstorm

take bitter and make it sweet

but it ends up leaving an empty taste in your mouth

pretending to be okay in a world just like me

not bitter; not sweet; nor bittersweet;

just overfull with bitter sweetness