Why do we write things so personal down?

Does anyone know the facts for it?

Why do we spill our thoughts to pages,

And not one another?

‘Tis a mystery to me still.

Someone could easily turn to the page,

Where words so forbidden,

Were so thoughtfully written;

Why must we tell our pages our tales?

Our never ending thoughts of this or that?

Why do we not hide them in our minds,

Never to see the suns rays,

Never to be seen by the wonderous eyes

Thirsting for truth,

Never to be heard by the judging ears?

Often these pages are of love;

The symbols are filled with passion,

Each verse a statement that the heart sings

Into the head of it’s shell,

Driving one into madness,

A torturous thing, love is.

Driving anyone to have the affection

Just slightly returned,

Making one long for the answers of questions

One dare not speak.

‘Tis a shame that these,

Most glorious writings,

Be hidden,

Never to be read by those meant to;

Their author’s passion wild, unstoppable,

Unchangeable.

Time cannot wither such passions,

Nor any action can disturb them,

This love is pure,

It’s thoughts are pure madness,

But it sings so sweetly into lovers ears,

No attention is paid to the insane instruments

Playing furiously in the background,

Guiding the lyrics on their way into the brain,

Which is replaced with the heart;

The heart, a bomb of emotions,

Needing to explode and explore

The love’s interior,

The love’s outer shell,

This love is pure,

This is no whim of feeling,

‘Tis strong and enduring, the flame will not go out,

No amount of water can douse the flame;

Nor the will of others,

This will is stronger, more determined,

Nor can the arrangements of others plans

Break the binding chains

That is love.

This love is untainted,

This love will endure,

No greetings of others longing eyes

Will draw the heart nearer to such partners,

No other can fill the hole, but the one so loved.

The eyes may enjoy beautiful human sights,

But none can compare to one’s love’s beauty.

Others movements may be amusing for

A time,

But none will attract one’s eyes as one’s love’s

Movements do.

The head may turn, but the heart stays in place,

The heart does not know time,

Or others glances or movements,

It only knows one’s love’s actions,

Glances,

Loving stare,

It only longs for one’s love to share moments,

For this love is strong, it will endure.

----------------------------------------

This poem is not about anyone in particular... Just thoughts.