To describe the Jomanian heart is like trying to graze on a parched land.
There are no vegetation for miles; no water to speak of; and the baked earth reels under the intense heat of the sun. It longs for even the slightest of rain. The wind blows bringing superheated air that comes directly from the cloudless sky above. It burns the skin you know, it burns whatever things I stand for.
I never learn. I am still very weak with my emotions.
And when it is overwhelmed by a force, whose promises include transforming the land into a fertile oasis once again,
The Jomanian heart gets tempted.
I would have capitulated, had it been for one person whose advice I sought most.
Just as I always thought, mine was deeper than I'd care to admit. Denial, in the face of truth is irrelevant.
---
In my dream, I held hands with a guy. He was not a stranger like the ones I met before. In my sincerest desire to convey my secret feelings that can only be expressed in silence, I held his hand very tight. For a few minutes that can rival an eternity, we never let go of each other.
How'd I wish that when he held mine, his feelings was a genuine as the one that emanated from me.
---
If not for your intervening whispers, a history that happened a year ago might have been repeated.
In my dreams, I forgot to thank you for coming to my aid.
Whoever you are, this blog entry is for you.
There are no vegetation for miles; no water to speak of; and the baked earth reels under the intense heat of the sun. It longs for even the slightest of rain. The wind blows bringing superheated air that comes directly from the cloudless sky above. It burns the skin you know, it burns whatever things I stand for.
I never learn. I am still very weak with my emotions.
And when it is overwhelmed by a force, whose promises include transforming the land into a fertile oasis once again,
The Jomanian heart gets tempted.
I would have capitulated, had it been for one person whose advice I sought most.
Just as I always thought, mine was deeper than I'd care to admit. Denial, in the face of truth is irrelevant.
---
In my dream, I held hands with a guy. He was not a stranger like the ones I met before. In my sincerest desire to convey my secret feelings that can only be expressed in silence, I held his hand very tight. For a few minutes that can rival an eternity, we never let go of each other.
How'd I wish that when he held mine, his feelings was a genuine as the one that emanated from me.
---
If not for your intervening whispers, a history that happened a year ago might have been repeated.
In my dreams, I forgot to thank you for coming to my aid.
Whoever you are, this blog entry is for you.
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