- مقروء 427
- صوت 9
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مستمرّة
آخر تحديث: أربعاء, أبريل ٢٩, ٢٠٢٦
Loving her is like confessing while a loud music is on play. Seen but cannot be heard. While she's on stage listening to the crowd's loud cheers, I'm here at the corner waiting for her to hear my whispers.
The loud beating of my heart never came in synchronous to the beautiful tunes of her guitar.
When will she ever recognize my loud shouts? When will she ever understand every stanzas of my poems? When will she ever recognize my eyes looking at her in the midst of the crowd?
My love for her was like whispers of the wind. Felt but never recognized.
جميع الحقوق محفوظة
#37
lgbt
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