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I think I’ve mastered the art, of taming my wild heart, now my heart doesn’t flutter, thinking about you.

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Art Heart Master Tame Thinking Wild Yourself

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Am I just a overthinking maniac? Or am I the girl that got left behind?
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I wish I had said no, the day you asked for my number, but I was young, dumb and numb, looking for a harbor of harmony, to mend my shattered soul.
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Paper and pen petrify me, for they pierce right through me, drawing deep blue blood, leaving me utterly cold.
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To the flamboyant boy from my school, I realize now you’ve always been cool.
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If this was my last poem I’d dedicate it to myself.
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Writers block grappled our souls, we fought back with our words.
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Your artful hands, hold my delicate heart, tenderly gaze at it, as if its an art.
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Your eyes met mine, and we know our story, from beginning to the end, all things said and unsaid.
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Oh, darling, you fell in love with a girl not worth loving.
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I jab my own heart with a knife, thinking about you on and on. How dare you enter my life just to make me feel torn?
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Am I killing the kid in me, by strangling my curiosity?
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I used to be a mighty dragon, the one that breathes fire, I used to be a magical unicorn, sprinkling rainbows everywhere, but now I’ve lost it, the magic hidden within.
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I opened the door to emptiness, traded my emotions for numbness.
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