She looked happy in her own little world..
Every letter send to her lied unread..
And even when read,she laughed out loud holding them..
Or marvelled at the feelings left behind by the ink..
Or even the faint fragrance of the petals,that came along.
But she never looked at it as if it belonged to her..
Sometimes gifting them away,sometimes throwing them away..
Even burning them away..
Even when all of it screamed that the letters were for her..
She laughed, questioning the existence of the man who sent her letters..
And the man quitely started fading away..
A heart..
There is so much it could take..
So much it could give..
And the question to it's existence,from the most beloved persons..
It's better it fades away..