Don't beat so fast my little heart

Don't beat so fast my little heart, your love is not to come
While you crave for a morning sun, it will just make you burn
They say you are made of glass, but I kno what art thee
You are but a paper which feeds, on the ink of my memory

You soak my thoughts and my dreams and my tears
and sometimes, faster you beat, for my fears
and when I have lived for many many years,
One by one I shall open thy layers,

to read of hopes and forgotten dreams,
of love and other really silly things,
of the people I met and work I did,
of sights I have seen and of places I have been
of poems I wrote, and hell this is the silliest thing

but when I have peeled off, all the layers
Ah! what a flower you would be,
but right now just don't beat so fast my little heart
least you would tear.