неделя, 11 ноември 2012 г.

...in the rose garden of love

I'm afraid to even say that I'm afraid...
I'm afraid of the end of us. I can see that you are scared, too, but you somehow manage to hide all that fear, chase it away and be strong for me.
I don't know. You don't know.

There is a slight hope lurking in me that you will find a way to explain all this, to come clean, to admit your feelings for me or finally deny them. I'm waiting and praying for courage. Courage for the both of us.

Don't be afraid of me... don't be ashamed...


I was hoping that my overwhelming love for you eventually might infect you. My bewitching love words will dazzle you and  manage to blind you into thinking that you love me back the same way.

I am so afraid... of those future moments when I will think of those nights when I quietly cried myself to sleep beside you while you were listening to your music and remember... that I saw it coming.
And I still didn't run away on time. I didn't even try to protect myself. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

Wouldn't.

I'd rather have one breath of your hair, one kiss of your mouth, one touch of your hand, than eternity without it.  
One.



Darling I am willing to greet you...