I wish I could pour my heart out,
but I fear,
if like my eyes, will my heart yield nothing.
Will my heart look as dry as my eyes,
Should I just try and stop to surmise.
Will it speak my emotions, or will it just blurt.
Should I not risk and keep it closed, or should I evert.
I fear if I have lost what it takes to pour your heart out.
i fear that I may just be devoid of emotions.
I am left with stories now, lots of them.
But with just words and punctuations
No breaths, no tears, no laughters
A story so inanimate
I will be scared to read it, I am, because,
I may doubt myself after it’s read
I better not pour my heart
Though, stories there are many, that can still be told.
But I doubt if I have a heart that can still be poured