Tuesday, 1 January 2013

Thoughts

My wishes are endless
still I call them few
Because whenever I see you
I wish nothing more than you.

My dreams are really wild
Still they seem nice
Because they are a way to feel you
Even with closed eyes.

My writing may seem child-like
Still I like to write for you
Because they tell you my feelings
Which I might hesitate to speak and do.

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