If the heart leads the way, mine's so confused. At any which moment it profuses, a hundred worries, a million paths, and in this road which I can't long yet last, I ever sit stuck in my earnest woes.

The fearful inside of me wants to run, the romantic inside of me believes, the impatient inside of me cries, pleads! In my heart I yet not know what I need.

I want a slow love, yet... I want not wait.

I want a passionate love, yet fear loss.

I want a gentle embrace, yet pushed so

I don't know what I want, does... anyone?

To love passionately and for lasting, love slowly with no fear of disinterest, love gently without regrets passing; to truly love, flaws and all, pains and all.

I think that's what I want, to try again.

To love one must become weak, I fear pain.

To love one must give time, It's uncertain.

To love one must wish to talk, there's silence.

And to love, I must wait, fear, and wonder.

To love, it makes the future uncertain.

To love, means to hope, regardless of fear.

If the heart is a map, compass to be, all mine points to is, at this moment,

You.

Perhaps it's not so confused after all...