Foreign Soil

I feel like I'm not growing or going anywhere.

I am your heart.

Sitting, waiting, in your chest.

Beating, Pumping, Giving you life.

But am I yours?

Who are you?

I hear your thoughts,

I sense your emotion,

but your face,

your face is nothing but a black spot,

seeding itself,

into my existence,

rooting down,

gripping onto the surface of my being,

yet I know not what your face looks like.

I break free from your chest,

and now I sit here,

sprawled out,

still searching for the owner of this heart.

I wonder,

if sometimes,

you'll ever miss me...

because although I never saw your face

I felt you,

I beat for you,

and life's hard for a heart in a foreign place.

Author's Note

I dunno.
Didn't really put much effort into this...
I just wrote what I've been seeing in my head.

Reviews

[Sharminda]

Nice efforts.

Reika san, Would you mind studying my story. Lets give feedback to each other.