Blame it on the heart, this indispensable thing that beats and makes everything so soft and fluffy. My insides tend to curl and twist in a complicated way that clouds my judgement quickly.
Blame it on this thing that makes my eyes water; makes my palms sweaty. For sure I will say Yes in whatever you say.
I give away so suddenly, with just the sweetness of your voice taking me where I used to be. Blame it on this heart of mine that is too big for one, the crowd is welcome.
It hurts not to, I suffer to ignore you.
Blame it on the heart why I love them too dearly.
Blame it on its color. Red or white. Innocent. Pure. Coward. Forgiving. Understanding.
Blame it on the heart. This poor thing in my chest.
No comments:
Post a Comment