One beautiful night, the street was covered with snow and I was holding a warm mug of coffee that reminded me of the last time I smiled with tears in my eyes. I folded a page in my book and kept it marked so that I never open it again. But I am scared of a person who can make me look back to the page.
I am scared of a person whose "you're beautiful" can make me feel "I love you".
I am scared of a person whose "you did the right thing" will reach me in fractions of a deed,
I am scared of a person whose no words will hurt more than anything and I am scared of a person to whom my feelings won't reach in need.
I shaped my definition of love when I was at the peak of my feelings. When I was sad, when I was happy, when I was nervous, when I felt nothing,
When I was colder than the snow, when I zoned into my thoughts, I shaped it all in me.
I waited for someone to assure me " I will look for every other thing you like." I waited for someone to realize the "why" with "I trust in you",
Yet,
I kept wondering when did the spring come by when did the winter grow this calm,
I opened the book of my feelings again which made me mark my words in a loop. Making me anxious over its existence yet asking me to begin.
I believe this folded page and this book have yet many unread pages,
I believe it will be the book that must have stayed quite a few ages with me.