There’s a flutter in my heart 
when I hear his laugh— 
a sound that slices through 
the heavy ache, the tangled knots. 

It doesn’t erase the pain, 
but it chops it down to size, 
lessens it just a bit, 
gives me a taste of hope.

Laughter is a clever disguise, 
masking the bruises deep inside— 
But perhaps, for a second, a minute, an hour, 
the pain softens, the darkness cowers.

The waves of hurt come crashing, 
wrecking me at random times, 
but his laugh washes them away, 
even if just for that fleeting while.

It’s a reminder that agony lingers, 
its roots deep beneath the skin. 
Yet hope rises just as stubbornly, 
with each giggle, grin, and jest.

There is no cure, no ending balm— 
but his laughter’s gentle sword 
fights to keep despair at bay 
and reminds me of what I can’t forget:

Pain may be eternal. 
But so is the chance for joy. 
And every smile, each laugh, 
makes room for a moment of grace. 

A moment of light 
that refuses to fade.