What makes you happy may not make
me happy.
What makes you jump for joy and sequel in delight may not tickle my fancy.
What turns your firm lips into a smile and furthermore induces a bubble of laughter may not crack me up
What makes you so excited you want to burst into a million tiny pieces of contentment may not give me an ounce of satisfaction.
But here's the thing.
When you are midway in the air jumping for joy, I’m laughing wondering how high you would jump.
When you squeal (yes squeal!!) Or grunt in delight, like when your favourite team is winning, I’m squealing or grunting too before I even know which team is wearing what colour.
When those firm lips are cracking into a smile, even before the bubbling laughter begins, my cheeks already hurt from smiling so hard.
When you are bursting into those tiny pieces of contentment, the pieces fall on me and I'm a solved puzzle spelling out satisfaction.
Its crazy! I know
How I suddenly hate the smell of apples because you hate the smell of apples (I mean do apples even have a smell?)
How I can't pass by that jersey in the store because I think of how your eyebrows arch and your smile is slightly crooked when you see me in it, and how you then pretend it’s normal.
It’s totally unbelievable how I now love red wine. I've always been a white wine kinda girl but when I hear you talk about the redness of the wine, the originality of its taste, the history of its storage, I unconsciously pour not one but two glasses as we watch... (Crap!! I don't know who we are playing against...AGAIN but I have both my jersey and my game face on).
I love my weaves but the other day at the cinema you said “Gosh, her cornrows are so pretty, don't you think so?" "It's ok" I replied but I've taken my hair out twice now and each time, its been cornrows!!!
It makes no sense, I know. But the plain and simple truth is at the end of the day; your happiness is my happiness...
Daramola Oyinkansola
What makes you jump for joy and sequel in delight may not tickle my fancy.
What turns your firm lips into a smile and furthermore induces a bubble of laughter may not crack me up
What makes you so excited you want to burst into a million tiny pieces of contentment may not give me an ounce of satisfaction.
But here's the thing.
When you are midway in the air jumping for joy, I’m laughing wondering how high you would jump.
When you squeal (yes squeal!!) Or grunt in delight, like when your favourite team is winning, I’m squealing or grunting too before I even know which team is wearing what colour.
When those firm lips are cracking into a smile, even before the bubbling laughter begins, my cheeks already hurt from smiling so hard.
When you are bursting into those tiny pieces of contentment, the pieces fall on me and I'm a solved puzzle spelling out satisfaction.
Its crazy! I know
How I suddenly hate the smell of apples because you hate the smell of apples (I mean do apples even have a smell?)
How I can't pass by that jersey in the store because I think of how your eyebrows arch and your smile is slightly crooked when you see me in it, and how you then pretend it’s normal.
It’s totally unbelievable how I now love red wine. I've always been a white wine kinda girl but when I hear you talk about the redness of the wine, the originality of its taste, the history of its storage, I unconsciously pour not one but two glasses as we watch... (Crap!! I don't know who we are playing against...AGAIN but I have both my jersey and my game face on).
I love my weaves but the other day at the cinema you said “Gosh, her cornrows are so pretty, don't you think so?" "It's ok" I replied but I've taken my hair out twice now and each time, its been cornrows!!!
It makes no sense, I know. But the plain and simple truth is at the end of the day; your happiness is my happiness...
Daramola Oyinkansola
1 comment:
Wen did u become dis good...nice one
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