Holding back

Hope is like the pied piper pulling delicately on the soft chambers of your heart. Its rhythms are warm like the touch of a friend. Hope is a piping hot mocha, oozing comfort on cold days. It is the crackling warmth of a gentle fire that somehow allows a heart to heal and believe again. Hope is a free-spirited companion, who lifts your soul and carries you like the wind. It caresses your heart, teaches you to take deep breaths and reopen yourself to new experiences. Hope is a mild sedative. It tames old aches that would otherwise fester silently. It is the recurrent fountain of memories that reminds your heart to have faith even when the past morphs into distant shadows. Hope is stubborn, though. And thankfully, it springs eternal. It is part inspiration and part responsibility. It screams courage, even when time rings hollow and the ballads of smiles go silent. Hope is a soft comfort pillow to conceal troubles, a place to dream about angels of old. It is a proud teacher, noble, though not always fair. It is quick to raise hopes while distilling life lessons. Luckily, the heart is a diligent student. It can dance deftly between raindrops and turn make-believe into an art form. It knows when to hold back and when not to look back. It is skilled at sanitising feelings and dressing them exquisitely to meet censorious eyes. But sadly, the heart does not yet know how to reinvent itself or how to stop pretending that it is whole.