The Stained White Flowers


11:14 PM

I remember when I’d run to you through field of white flowers

Copeland – Priceless

I recently listen to this song over and over again. For some unknown reasons, the tunes make me visualize about this image of a cheery young girl with too much love, pride, and positivism.

A voice asks if I will still believe in miracles, and happiness and luck — and every ingredient of a ‘cheery young girl’. I don’t need much time to figure that out. I can feel the leech of bitterness seeping through my incandescent fingers, dimming its gleam in a velocity that I will not recover.

All of the world and all of its powers couldn’t keep your love from me

I think about a recent argument in which I cried.

I still have lots of dreams, but they are not in regards to this particular aspect of life.

Even after months of renewing the previously blooming garden, I decided to once again put up the iron fence. And maybe let one or two feelings guarded much tighter. Or guard everything even more.


I’ve learned that the best way to avoid disappointment is to tear down any hope, before reality comes crashing, and things evolve into the ones they are not supposed to be. If life turns out to be good, consider it a bonus.

Yes. This bitter… and doesn’t change the fact that the dragonfly’s wings need the wind.

I remember when I’d run to you through field of white flowers…”

11:24 PM.

Author: mfaradina

An Indonesian. A reliable realist outside yet a romantic dreamer at heart.

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