Roaming heart.

As soon as one decides to put up barriers, how harder it is not to cross them. Trying to put my heart in a cardboard box only makes me feel it beat more violently. It wants to jump out of there, again, again, again. Out into the dangerous streets of your life, the streets that have no name and no guarantee of a safe place to stay. The streets that don’t tell you where you’re heading, that won’t alarm you when you get lost until it is too late. My heart, that stupid, silly, blinded, stubborn little thing, with every smile you give me, it beats harder, hits the walls of the box, threatens to tilt it over. Stop tempting me when I can barely stop my own self. The heart does not listen to logic nor reason, it only aches for love and beauty, which the streets of your life provide, alas only temporarily …


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