The winter breeze swoops down on the highways chilling everything he passes by. He finds himself mesmerized on the sight of the starry, starry night above him, and starts to remember bits and pieces of memories he didn’t know was with him all this time.
Don’t trust the heart of a lover. He finds ladies to get by through the night and expects no one beside him when sunlight touches his eyes. To love, or make love, is his essence. Commitment was always an issue and his loyalty, questionable.
Don’t trust the heart of a lover. He reaps you just when you’re at your weakest and leaves you hanging when you have thoughts of you and him having the same feeling. He’s a gambler. A player. And he’s pretty good at his own sport. The love game is his forte, and he’ll do anything to win, even it means to cheat or lie.
Don’t trust the heart of a lover…because these hearts will never be understood. People will criticize. People will always generalize. People will always think of you as a douche bee enjoying himself from flower to flower… when in fact a memory still remains, haunting you over and over and over.
Never ever trust the heart of a lover.
Because it’s only these kind of hearts that turn other hearts into ones like theirs —chilling hearts, just like the winter breeze.