In a quiet corner, a heart awaits to fill,
Craving touch and warmth, a yearning thrill
But thoughts of thorns and scars, a pause to love's call,
Hesitation crawl, as shadows fall.
A magical chance beneath rain's embrace,
Dancing in the downpour, a tender grace.
Breezes and raindrops, a gentle kiss,
A blanket from the cold, in moments of bliss.
Hand in hand, we paced the path ahead,
crossing together, no words need to be said.
Locked in each other's gaze, amidst the chill,
A love unfolding, a magic seemed real.
Yet whispers of fear, a haunting tune,
Cautioning against love's sweet monsoon.
A warning to halt, to not dare to dream,
For the timid heart, not all is as it may seem.
YOU ARE READING
DEAR SELF,
Poetry"The love that you are searching from someone else, will and must always start with yourself." (A collection of poem and prose about self-love, moving forward, and embracing one's imperfections) -ResNullius-
