I sit here a lonely writer,
Wondering if I'll always be alone.
Are my words of love and passion possibilities for me?
Or just another dramatic proclamation of my wishes.
How do we know when love is true?
And not just a powerful yearning of lust.
How do we learn to trust that voice in our heart to take the plunge,
When our head keeps holding back in spite?
How do I know which voice to listen to?
They're all screamiing too loud to understand.
Too profound to want to listen to.
Just easier to fall in love with isolation.
Because it can never break your heart.