"80 300 000 breaths “

One decade later, it goes to show,

Those 120 months, 3650 days, 87600 hours,

Have no meaning to the heart at all,

Brain in a hysterical attempt,

Putting demands on the heart,

Has been like Mr. Adult know it - all,

Explaining to the infant how to ride a bike,

When the whispers had failed,

It raised its voice, to hijack the muscle to strenuous trails,

Meanwhile , if it had stayed present ,

Beyond “shoulds” and “woulds” ,

The sadness might have turned into lyrics,

Tears into songs

After all, what’s the purpose of the heart,

If not allowing itself to grief,

Instead of listening to all the drunk fables -

So the feelings could go to sleep,

One decade later, regardless where you are,

Although I can’t see your countenance in front of my eyes,

Those other four senses that I’ve been so greatly blessed by ,

Are like an arrow that penetrate my heart and mind.

by Marysia