He keeps making me cry, without my consent. He stole my heart and caught me off-guard. What makes matters worse is that he doesn't know. He is clueless of the effect he has on me. He doesn't know that somebody's knocked out cold by his presence, slain by his absence, spellbound by his voice.
I am a puppet, strung-up by emotions. Shot like a bullet, stoned like the ground. I am a star falling out of the sky. Helpless and hopeless, doomed to a head-on collision. I am a poet driven by dreams, one of love, the other, him. I am, actually, anything vulnerable, for I have completely fallen for him.
He is the first bloom of the spring. Stunning on the snow, radiant in the sun. I could tell you more, but then I'd seem too cheesy, for not even all the words in the world could accurately describe what I'm trying to understand.
All I know is that this flight is solo, I am all alone, not to mention invisible. I'm the only one dreaming, and that is that.
Still, I hold on to a wish I can't grasp, waiting on somebody who doesn't even care. I still pray for that fateful day, when he can finally see me, when he can hear the thoughts in my head, when I, for once, can feel infinite. I still hope for that sweet someday, that fragment in time when I won't be harmed by my fears of reality.
