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MY PEN -- not another love story
yeah...not really...=(
"I must admit that my pen is better than me --
Better in expressing what
I feel, better in expressing what I want and
better in expressing
what I know.
My pen speaks on my command yet he speaks louder
than I do
and so I
never dare tell him to do one thing…
I don't dare tell him to talk about the birds and
the bees flying
high in the sky,
enjoying life together, then
enjoying pain in the
end….
Cause I'm afraid he will fail…
I'm afraid that he
won't succeed…
But the time has come when my pen has to speak
about it,
time when he
has to break his silence…
and right then and
there my pen starts to
cry…
His eyes speak of something I can't hear…
It tells something I can't read
Yet still, I want to look at it at all times
Looking at it as if it is mine.
I like what I see on those eyes…
my reflection
Reflecting his…
His hands on the other hand tells me a story…
A wonderful story where I am the only lady…
And he is the only man…
Those hands give me the touch of thousand
promises…
It's as if he is holding my whole self…
I might as well stay in his hands forever.
But then my ears hear whispers from the wind…
Trying to wake me up from this dream…
But those whispers just stop there and never sink
in
Cause my eyes and my hand won't let it.
I am a fool but that's just fine…
It is the proper thing to do I guess….
I don't care if he doesn't look at things the way
I do…
What's important is that I am able to experience
those few moments...
But I must admit, I also long for the time when
he'll
look at me
And speak of clearer things…the day when he'll
see the
same color I see…
I long for the moment when he'll come to me and
say
what I've always wanted him to…
But that moment never comes…
My pillows are my witnesses of my dark, sleepless
nights…
Of flowing tears, and heartache…
I hope someday he'll be the one to comfort me…
And tell me that everything's all right…
That he is there and that he'll never leave me….
But really, I am not expecting anything…
Just asking for something…
I told myself many times that I have to stop…
But every time I decide to move on…
I'll see him once again with that same look in
his eyes,
And with that same touch of his hands…
And again, as always, I'll fall into his arms…
Wishing that this time he'll stay…
But Im aware that he won't…
So I just let the moment pass by…
And decide that that would be the last…
I told myself for the nth time that…
It's the proper thing to do…
…then there he is, walking towards me again…
I faced him and tell myself…
It is really just fine…
And continue with this insanity for the longest
time…
…after which my pen rests again…."
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