Hold my hand.


Out of nowhere, you held my heart in the palm of your hand, and I had yours. I was conflicted. I let go hastily and gave looks of bewilderment. Your face in confusion; mine in red. My actions are a juxtaposition to my emotions. All I wanted at that moment was a couple more moments. All that's left is a snapshot of what could have been. I placed your heart out of my hand because the last heart I held slipped out of my fingers. I can't afford to break anymore. At least not right now; it's far too taxing on me.

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