Fluff

I'm not one to fuss over the fluff and frills of life.
Finding solace in the dark, strange and melancholy.
Apathy and negativity now just parts of my personality.
But if you really want to know the fluff that gets me,
Well,
It's the cool splash of a creek on the hottest day of summer,
Digging through clay to obtain only the prettiest of rocks.
It's the ripping away of weeds,
To make room for my new wild flowers.
It's the symphony of squeaks,
From the toys my dog hordes as if he were a dragon.
It's the calmness in my soul from the collection of crickets and frogs,
On a front porch swing surrounded by twinkling lights and stars right after the rain.
It's the laughter swarming the kitchen,
When we're so stoned a combination of everything sounds amazing.
It's the feeling you get when you read the last line,
Of your new favorite book.
It's the process of settling in to watch a movie,
Just to be lost in each other instead.
It's the thrill of hunting for new treasures,
In the dark, dusty depths of a thrift store.
And it's the smiles you feel against your lips,
In between kisses.
In a sea of macabre, that's the fluff that gets me.