I had this little book where I wrote all my compositions since high school. Writing had always been my way of expressing me... I thought I had lost that notebook already, until I found it in my old mementos box that hass been hidden in my closet for like ages ago. And it surprises me on how many poems and shorts stories I had written there (was I that disturbed?! :p ), But then it helped me to be me...
Wandering Heart
Rain seem to pour endlessly,
Sending shiver down my spine
It felt cold – I feel cold.
But not as cold as
My seemingly icy heart,
And I wonder would I ever feel?
To be in love,
Would it touch me, would it melt me?
Or would it break me?
I don’t know and its scares me.
To be in love,
Should I search for it?
Or run away from it?
Maybe – maybe not
Can I inhale it?
Can I seize it?
Love,
Can you find me?
Wandering Heart
Rain seem to pour endlessly,
Sending shiver down my spine
It felt cold – I feel cold.
But not as cold as
My seemingly icy heart,
And I wonder would I ever feel?
To be in love,
Would it touch me, would it melt me?
Or would it break me?
I don’t know and its scares me.
To be in love,
Should I search for it?
Or run away from it?
Maybe – maybe not
Can I inhale it?
Can I seize it?
Love,
Can you find me?
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