That's the catchphrase.
(betcha didn't know we had one)
The kind of radiant splendor that emanates happiness...the kind of happiness which is beautiful (at least to me).
Soft lines. Elegance. Oatmeal cookies. Pretty, pretty, music made by talented musicians and singers. Gorgeously crafted stories and words.
And what's left of memories.
They shoot chills of pleasure in my veins and down my spine like quicksilver. I shudder with loveliness, sway with the passion... Tasting poetry, devouring unheard harmonies...
A carousel of indescribable emotion and delight.
It's something you just want to feel. Constantly. Always. Unceasingly.
Suffocating, panting, dying under this influence.
But it blinks out as quickly as it came.
It felt sort of empty and false anyway, didn't it? When it's forced to last longer than it should, it feels impure and ugly and unoriginal.
It makes me think...because that's how I feel all the time lately...