A thousand lips, a thousand eyes,
a thousand hearts will read these words,
as you read them, graze them, this moment. Thousands will utter them into the abyss, someday, perhaps for years to come; loudly, softly,
repeatedly, again and again and again.
Some will mock, some will laugh. Some
will shed a tear. But it is written
only for your lips, your eyes, your heart,
beloved.

Do as you please.
It is written by an ideal heart,
intense, yet free, when in thought of you.
Written from a dehydrated pen
that shed the last drops of her blood,
onto you. And still, you do not know me.

Autor: V.S. Atbay