Eternal Happiness

What do you do when things seem to have turned to dust in your hands? When the things that you love are taken away from you by disease, when the person you love turns into a monster, when the second chance at happiness you had based on a whirlwind of emotions and the sweet words of a poet turns out to be nothing more than the fleeting shadow of a solitary cloud on a hot desert day.

You turn to the dependable, the one who has shown you the most basic kindness, the most simple love and the most secure future. You build the life that you really should, you start to forget those embers kicking around in the pit of your stomach because every day they are doused as you open your eyes and look at the man who is your comforter.

But still it nags, still it wrenches at you. You make contact again, fleetingly, and realise he's still the asshole he proved himself to be. You decide to turn the tables on him, to cast him out into the darkness where he left you, confused and alone. And yet those embers are being raked over again, bursting in to flames even as your comforter enters your body because you wish it was that man who set your soul alight and who still consumes you.

It's too much to bear, this hurtling return to Earth. You're burning through the atmosphere and now with a crew on board.

The eternal happiness is within you. It's not the comforter, it's not the flame. It's you and what lives inside you.