Jealousy forms when you observe other couple's loving activities, whilst your own love sits inside the heart; not being able to show affection will slowly rot the soul.
The inability to feel neither true pain nor joy comes from being hurt so much in the past that the heart learns to shield itself from these emotions. This is what is like to be frozen. Neither sunlight nor the freezing wind can change the frozen heart. Yet it waits for the day, for love to melt it back to the way it was.
Stupidity is the man who does not listen to the wise men. Stupidity is the man who does the bidding of his heart. Stupidity is when love conquers body and soul.
Love cannot be forced, they say, but then explain to me how is it that couples in arranged marriages last so long? Longer than those marriages vowed due to the sake of love? Love is a bond that can be obtained over time. I believe so, but yet it is also my weakness, my stupidity.
Stupidity for loving a man whose heart is, perphaps, even more frozen than mine. Does he know what love is? But yet my hope remains. The hope that allows me to be here waiting for him although the mind tells me to give up. It's futile.
"There can be miracles, when you believe,
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill..."
The inability to feel neither true pain nor joy comes from being hurt so much in the past that the heart learns to shield itself from these emotions. This is what is like to be frozen. Neither sunlight nor the freezing wind can change the frozen heart. Yet it waits for the day, for love to melt it back to the way it was.
Stupidity is the man who does not listen to the wise men. Stupidity is the man who does the bidding of his heart. Stupidity is when love conquers body and soul.
Love cannot be forced, they say, but then explain to me how is it that couples in arranged marriages last so long? Longer than those marriages vowed due to the sake of love? Love is a bond that can be obtained over time. I believe so, but yet it is also my weakness, my stupidity.
Stupidity for loving a man whose heart is, perphaps, even more frozen than mine. Does he know what love is? But yet my hope remains. The hope that allows me to be here waiting for him although the mind tells me to give up. It's futile.
"There can be miracles, when you believe,
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill..."
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