The Story of Joy

Joy calls my name but i do not answer,
I suspect she has grown weary of calling to silence.
I do not blame her.
I just cannot begin to allow myself to make friends with a woman, (because i suspect joy is a woman), who will come into my life, fill me with gladness and then take a vacation when i have gotten used to her.

Joy sounds like a nice person, (If she were a person)
I suspect i might like her,
But i know i would be suspicious of her
She is that person who is too good to be true
Something must be wrong for somebody to want to give me a bit of gladness
I am suspicious, with good reason

Joy is like a good cup of tea
Perfect for cold days, healing for a cold and its friends
One ingredient missing and all you have is water and Sugar
Nice things are frustrating, they run out
And that, is why Joy and i are far apart

I keep her at arms length
I will smile at her but run off when she starts to smile back
I will send her flowers because i miss her
But i shall hide when she comes looking for me
I will watch her from my window
I will watch her embrace others and be glad for them

I like joy but i am afraid of her
I suspect that if i friend her and she leaves me, i might die
On the inside
If i haven't already.