With a Trembling Heart



One day I saw one of my friend posted a poem titled “A Question of Priorities”,
He wrote,
“What if I were to tell you that I would happily find a home in your soul,
would you still chase desires of the flesh,
 or at last give in to a passion that you will never be able to see, taste, or hold?
Would you keep sacrificing love for lust?
Would you disregard matters of the heart for something that looks a little more ‘socially palatable’ on your arm?”
Those deep words got me so.
And last night you told me a story of a man who was busy chasing his own tails,
Too busy to open his heart to see beyond the lust,
Too busy to open his mind to see the bigger picture of love,
Too busy to remind himself about priority.
And as the story goes, you said, the man finally realized,
How to differ between the bitter reality and the blinding ideal dream,
How to get his senses back and find closures for himself,
How to come back home.
As always, I was overwhelmed with the story, the confession, the disclosure,
You came just right in time when I was so hopeless,
When I was losing in the battle with myself,
When I was conflicted whether to just take the lose,
and prepare myself to let go once again.
I can never win anyway, for I am not the ideal dream girl you love,
I was never, and I will never be. I cannot be.
From the story you told me, I realized that you had given up something big of yours,
Hence it makes me feel terribly sorry.
I really do not know what you see from me,
This person who is lacking so much,
Far from something you can called as precious,
Even as a reality, I am the bitter, ugly, and unwanted one.
Yet still, I wanted you to know, that
Hopefully I do deserve all of your efforts and sacrifice.
And I wrote this with a trembling heart,
In hopes that I could feel ‘you’ again.


M.F

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