Sunday, 9 March 2008

Question mark

There are times when I would ask myself,
What does each kiss mean?
How soft are your lips,
Although in truth I never tasted its sweetness.
Times when I would wonder,
What does each stare implies?
How I melt every time those eyes would strike me,
Amazed on how it hit my heart and soul.
I would ask during moments of silence,
Why do you hold my hand?
Every fingertip, your palm resting in my palm,
I grab hold of yours, but not your heart.
How I wish it is me that you see,
Every time you would kiss me.
That in each heart-melting stare,
Gone is the sadness looking back at me.
But there are certain depths,
That no matter how hard I try, I couldn’t reach
These wounds that I wanted to cure,
And shattered pieces I'm willing to pick up.
This heart is asking if you really feel me,
Like the way I feel for you?
Even for once, do you think of me?
Same as how you’ve left an imprint on my every thought.
Or maybe, just maybe,
I am but a mere habit, so break me.