Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Right here waiting for you :)





 The Reserved Heart


An ice is form
But my poem is still unformed

My eyes are open
But my mind is wonder'n

I feel so cold
But there is no one to hold

My mouth is speechless
So as my heart --- loveless.

the paper has the pen
But would mine come, ---When?

It may be just beside
And it doesn't really hide.

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