I know this place,

I’ve been before

Last time was laced

With raging war.

I know this wind

That I feel blow

But oh, my friend,

Beware the ghosts.

I know this dance,

At least the steps

But last time chanced

Untimely death.

The silence is

So fucking loud

The perfect bliss,

Your laughing sounds.

I look for thunder

In the skies

Instead I find

The bluest eyes

Looking down, now

Right at me

But who am I

Supposed to be

When I’m not used to

Perfect love,

Hydrangea blue

And turtledoves?

Can’t be my story

Is this a test?

Or could I get used

To happiness?