Though the wind blows steadily across the plains I still feel a sense of remorse. Something has been ripped straight from the depths of my heart. Though everything is still as it was before, I cannot help feel that some small part of me has changed.
For even when there were tears, there was love, and so we soldier on in hopes that everything will be as bright as it was before, akin to a summers day. Alas it is only wishful thinking. Such poetic love stories exist only in our minds.
Forgive me my heart, but I cannot allow this to continue. We cannot choose who we love, yet we can choose to suppress it. My only wish is that this feeling leaves me, for I myself am dying from the inside. Such is the joy of love....
For even when there were tears, there was love, and so we soldier on in hopes that everything will be as bright as it was before, akin to a summers day. Alas it is only wishful thinking. Such poetic love stories exist only in our minds.
Forgive me my heart, but I cannot allow this to continue. We cannot choose who we love, yet we can choose to suppress it. My only wish is that this feeling leaves me, for I myself am dying from the inside. Such is the joy of love....