Meadow shade star

In the best tradition of metal bands everywhere, I stole three words out of the air and banged them smack together to form a label for a smile. The smile that refuses to leave my lips, now that the hardship has passed, that the world has colour and, on the contrary, lacks the tin taste that accompanied today.
And of course, as always, as all the time since that time that seems so long ago, the source of it... I love that source. Love it with every breath and bone, as I have said before. I said it the first time because lack of space (160 spaces) didn't permit what I realize now would have had all the more chance to sound gaudy and lame. And I realized that it is true and complete. Every breath, every bone. That includes heartbeats, fibers of beings and other cliches that have gotten to mean nothing to anyone except tinsel-town producers (that, in order to use a little cliche of our very own).
Back to the smile. Always back to the smile, and back to the source of the smile, which, with the risk of now sounding gaudy and/or lame, peoples my thoughts, inexorably and ultimately. Uber-populates, as mufa would say :D
It feels like a dream out of a crackhead hippie's head, with that odious thing behind us, looming, leering, casting a shadow and sighing with frustration in the wind that it could not reach us, the cold evil shadow of the dead, and we wallowed in sunshine and shade, on that meadow. And it was so weird, like a picture had been taken and the main characters afterwards cut out with a pair of scissors. Can you see it? The girl is sitting between two boys, laughing, frowning, sighing and speaking, smoking peacefully, now that she is allowed, feeling that everything is right and perfect, though you cannot tell by her face, except if you were to start guessing and making assuptions upon her gaze. Then the scene shifts, one of them is standing, the other with the girl's head in his lap, and they're talking and laughing away. This is yesterday, and today, and tomorrow and every day after that. This is sun and warmth and happiness, sheer, unadulterated happiness, and love, and the truest and most amazing of friendships, that will last until the end of time. I wish the girl could turn to the boy in whose lap she is lying, and confess that she didn't mean all that scientific crud about electrical impulses and the fact that the only reason they are together is because society innoculates in all a need to never be alone, always be with a mate. She only half means those things, they are true and valid for everyone else. They do not apply here, of course, since the source of her everlasting smile is her soulmate, her twin, her half, and every other word from that semantic family of completeness. She did not mean it, but pride and persuasiveness for the sake of it should be deadly sins, and perhaps they are, for they have no place in relation to your own half. But of course, that would somewhere deny the sheer existence of the bond they love and laugh about: he already knows...