What good will come out of asking my heart how it feels?
I have refrained from asking how it heals.
Like the winter mist that lays itself upon the surface, I have let my heart drown in frost.
What taste will come if love ever comes to dig out my heart from these shivering waters it is dissolved in?
Will she even dare to find the pieces in this stinging cold?
أنت تقرأ
You Who Knows Least
الشعرA sequel to my book "You Who Knows Best". Read, and you will find much intellect. The thoughts I share here are of my inner sect.
