It is out of years of despair and longing to escape that this heart
learnt how to give up a game even before it has really started. When the dance
begins, the accumulated scars and lacks hurt and choke; they loom over what this
heart really wants.
Yet the dream still remains to break free, to be one’s self and not
a definition, to fly out of the mazes created by the self and by others; to run
deep into the heavy snow wearing the warmth of your smile around me.
This heart has always been a rogue, vagabond and cheat; it has
evaded its responsibilities and flown away every single time to dwell in
imaginary worlds where the too bright sun can no longer burn its wings.
But this time, it needs to have enough cunning to throw pixie dust
in every wandering eye, just to hold your hand and ride out on a moonlight with
you.
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