Rapture can be so beautiful, yet so ugly.
The toll of ticking time can make a mind so fickle.
First you are content and lost in soulful, brown eyes,
next you are tapping your foot anxious to say good-bye.
These broken lines and bits and peices of thoughts
will never be enough for anyone to understand. How I can
only lend my heart for five minutes at a time.
For the fear of losing all over again,
for the fear of loving without it being returned,
for the fear of "falling" when I have no ground,
for the fear of losing sight of the definiton of me.
It's not that I am cold hearted, it's just the simple fact
that my heart has wings, and roots are not anything I
admire...... but fear.
A weakness?
No.
A strength?
No.
A quality?
No.
A flaw?
No.
Being fickle is just ME, so in saying that, would it make me strong, weak, a quality in your life, or a flaw?
So if I wore a scarlet letter, it would not be an "A" for
adultry, it's an "F" for fickle.
Here's to the hearts I have trampled on and to the projects left unfinished.
Look closley.
I am the unfinished project,
but only I will hold my trampled heart.
You asked for my defintion,
now swallow it......