Yes, my dear, I can be happy.
No, my dear, your words don't scare me.
Yes, my dear, there's a real *****
No, my dear, it's not metallic like yours.
If the heart belongs to me,
it will love who I want
because I choose who
I will fall in love with.
If the heart is not yours,
don't try to change mine
because I choose the way
how I will love others.
The feelings are infinite
just like the search for them
but I am not infinite
neither patient.
I am mortal, made of flesh;
flesh which rots.
I am prone to the forgetfulness.,
therefore, my search dies with me.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Yes, my dear, I can be happy.
No, my dear, your words don't scare me.
Yes, my dear, there's a real *****
No, my dear, it's not metallic like yours.
If the heart belongs to me,
it will love who I want
because I choose who
I will fall in love with.
If the heart is not yours,
don't try to change mine
because I choose the way
how I will love others.
The feelings are infinite
just like the search for them
but I am not infinite
neither patient.
I am mortal, made of flesh;
flesh which rots.
I am prone to the forgetfulness.,
therefore, my search dies with me.
