"There's a piece of glass
Between your arms,
The statue that you've been holding..."
The part that's cracked,
Where there's frozen heart,
Might have already started melting.
When the roots grow wild
From one's heart core
To reach to another spirit,
It stings so hard
When you're close to arms;
You might not notice their sealing.
Quivering lips
Find no words
To spit out the hefty feelings,
That crushes the heart
When you force to stop
The unwillingly wavery heart beat.
Hundreds of signs
To avoid the sight
And move on to something static.
The melting heart
Might have forgot
That his words were unreliable magic.
[Dedicated to: The Mystical Poet]