How much do we give up for the people we love? Sometimes, we give up on ourselves.
I am , but a barren land Of deserted longings, And forbidden hopes. Whisper you not; Because here we say, "What falls out lips Falls into the holy ears", So , we keep our whispers in check; Till they echo like a trumpet ; Thumping Sound waves, reflecting around the edges Of the blurred existence. So , in midnight I collect stars And with dust from celestial realm, On the parchment of ink blue sky I arrange my words. In a bleak wintry heart, snow flakes each unique Forms a blanket. And a warmth arises reaching the edges of my staggered silhouette, Mending them. And they reveal the truth That to keep you warm I had to freeze my soul.