I remember those times.
Imagining my own world with,
love, magic, happiness and fairytale endings.
A universe centred around toys, sweets and smiles.
Little did I know that it will all change.
The actual world is ugly.
Dreams shatter, and expectations wither.
I wrote something. Again, random.
Aching Calls of the Heart
Discontentment, irritation,
annoyance, frustration.
Questions flung around.
Aching calls of the heart.
Opinions don't matter here.
They never have, never will.
Love. Why is it so hard?
We aren't 2D illustrations
of their perfection.
Imperfectly perfect.
Miserably happy.
Impatiently patient.
A sodding paradox.
That's what we are.
Why can't we be just us?
Or is that forgotten
amongst the various facades?
The heart aches with the effort
of hoping, dreaming, striving
for a change
Never knowing how it could have been.
Only in our imaginations,
and wildest dreams.
We all dream,
though some, subconsciously.
Cos Desire is a forbidden
path to trod.
We do it anyway,
battling with new-found knowledge.
It's human to do so;
to question.
Existence seems obligatory now.
All we're left with are the
aching calls of the heart.
Vee
12:28 PM
f
