“Hamlet’s antic disposition”

If I, to you, revealed my heart,
poured its contents, whole and part,
on this very bar table
maybe you would finally be able
to understand it all from the start.

however, I remain in silence,
for a prison of feelings is an art.
still, art such (almost a science!)
that can be decoded by the smart –
i.e. those who are able to notice,
(silently) the small seedlings of the heart.

so, if my eye expression goes afar
and you’re upset by my silent antics,
understand deeply that you are
(although being an ultra-romantic)
not able to use your semantics
to explain the mystery of my heart.


now, your turn!

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