Some days I remember how I tattooed you across my lungs.

It’s then that I know why I can rarely breathe.

It’s then that I know the oxygen never hits my bloodstream.

Stops just short,

catching on your fingertips.

Burning and branding instead of filling and spilling.

It’s then that I remember how you’ll be choking me from inside, eternally.

Never letting me catch my breath.

Always just shy of full.

And now I breathe shallow,

just like you.

Laughter is the food of the soul.

Soul food if you will.

It replenishes your aura like rains to the plants and oceans.

It rejuvenates as slumber does the weary.

As food does the belly.

That is the essence of laughter.

It solidifies bonds and reacquaint lost relationships.

It’s a myriad of love letters and a plethora of secrets.

A menagerie of conversations unspoken.

Laughter is the cry of joy and the scream of triumph (especially over that maths coursework which thought it beat you)!

Laughter is the memory of a time you see only in your mind.

Your innocence and candour.

The defeat of your inner villain.

The quashed petty victories you have with your siblings .

The peace that washes over you with acceptance and love.

The serenity of the the river which smooths out the rocks.

I’m brooks and streams too.

Starting as a trickle then a flow then a roaring raging rapid if gratitude.

Laughter is the best armour you’ll ever have .

It protects you from taking yourself too seriously.

Protects you from yourself.

Protects your heart and opens it up to the wonderous shades of life on offer.

Calling

Beseeching

Urging you to press on so you find the luminous splendour to had as you feel spectacular