I have immured my heart in a bottle and entrust its fate on to the uncharted oceans, in hopes of finding its way unto you.
In a world that I could never fathom, an outburst of wind of fate seemingly uttered with beguiling promise of love blows at the very moment we least expect. Oftentimes, it is marked by a vehement gush with the force of a cyclone. Sometimes, they could caress one's bare face in tranquility, less likely to be heeded upon.
But the winds cannot be withheld. And those winds steered my bottled heart safely passed through the formidable hurricane, atop the perilous riptides, as it takes an unpredictable yet regulated route—the most delicate course on its extensive adventure—the course towards you. Disregarding your walls, they come barging in your chambers. Beggeting forth, as they often do, an intoxicating idea of the future accompanied by the promise of ardor. And the winds hushed upon reaching you as it sings the song proclaiming glory of a fulfilled quest.
As your face gets cascaded by the reds and oranges of the fading sun, you picked up the bottle, twisted its cork, and allowed my heart to taste the bliss of freedom after being kept out of touch, unable to bathe in the relish for a long time.
You admired its beauty as it is situated on the palm of your hands, as if entrusting the kismet on your ruling.
But you decided it was too precious for you; too fragile to hold on to. It doesn't worth the risk.
Thereupon, you dispose it back into the bottle, whispering mindless vindication and apologies in hopes of obliterating the guilt, as you threw it as far away from you as you could; back into the great unknown.
It was then that the strong winds of fate never presented itself, as if abandoning my bottled heart. It was left floating in the ocean back and forth without reaching a definite destination.
Forsaken. Misguided. Lost.
Never bound to reach the arms it belongs to.