Feelings of the heart are very complicated. They play around with their captor, teasing and tormenting him or her until they either, either tear apart your heart strings or make love music with them.
I am a captor of the heart; or is it my captor? I don't know. I sit for hours thinking about the times that I am in; about the things that I have done; about the one that I love.
And who is he? Who is this one? This love? This tormentor? Why is he so special? Why do I only think about him?
I am the ice queen; as cold as the desert that sits on top of the world. I am the goddess of the moon; pure, divine and holy. I do not indulge in fantasies of men and such and yet with this particular one it is different.
It is different because he is different. He turns on my senses efficiently. He draws me to him as a moth is drawn to a flame; but; I still feel scared; still feel doubtful; cautious and distrusting. Do you blame me? I cannot be blamed. I plead "not guilty" to the jury of the court of love. I ask for forgiveness if I grasp the wrong rope; Finally, I ask for mercy; for guidance; and for protection of my lord savior and the courage to do what is right for the matters of the mind, spirit and soul.
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A Mistress Of Silence.
General FictionThe diary of a fifteen year-old back in 1995. "Who am I? Have you asked yourself that question yet? No; I shall correct myself; Has he asked himself that question? He knows me and he does not know me. To him, I am who I am to everyone else; so what...
