Pin me to your strings,

And play me like a doll,

For my head and my heart fight,

And I need you to choose,

Which delusion will be buried,

And which will grow wings.

The Heart swoons,

Soft frame falling onto the chaise longue,

Dreaming of vintage love,

And eyes undressing her,

Under the light of the strawberry moon.

The Head scoffs,

Cheeks a rosy pink,

Whispering faintly,

“We cannot love her,

Not when the world moves on,

And she will wander off.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Asks The Heart,

A smile beginning to bloom,

“What if we are meant to be,

And shall love until our very grave?

What if I look back to this day,

Longing for what wasn’t?”

I fear my chest shall rip in two,

Tugged by my critical mind,

And yearning soul.

I fear that my last breath,

Shall be one of rue,

For I decided which path to follow,

And a knowing glance sprouts upon you.

Now a cry crawls from my throat,

“I love Siân! I love her, I love her, I do!”

But I am ashamed;

I am young,

There may be no love that can withstand a lifetime,

There may be no love that she feels for me.

I cannot float,

Not in the harsh currents of my thoughts,

They drown me in the bleakest worries,

While the joyous monsters of my heart,

Threaten to eat me whole.

So I ask you once again,

My friend,

Please take fate into your hands,

Please write my future,

With your commanding pen.