Stones & woods. Hard & fragile. You’re the hard one & I’m the fragile. You’re always hard & I’m always fragile.
I’ve seen you frown but never cried. (How can I know you’re not faking it?) And I’m always the crying lady trying to steal your attention.
You held my hand in a way that marks were seen. I always thought that ’twas passionate, that you are afraid of losing me, of seeing me from afar, that you’ve always wanted me by your side. But things seem different from my perspective to yours. You held me in that way to keep me steady, to keep my heart steady. So when you left, those marks will always remind me of you.
You held my hand in a way that my veins were screaming freedom. Freedom. You’re screaming freedom.
(I relate this to a photo I took found on my IG: psmaro)