Open Hands

You always wanted more.

You wanted more from my hands

Wanted them to draw constellations on my own back and solve 1000 piece puzzles to put yourself together.

You wanted more from my hands

You wanted them to hold your entire universe and spin it around like a disco ball till it made your head dizzy

You wanted me to trade my trembling hands for something safer

You complained that they tainted your pounding heart

You complained that they held it so tightly, it almost stopped beating

You complained that they weren’t soft enough even after I  plastered it with bubble wrap.

It took me 4 months and 16 days to realise you had already given your heart to someone else for safe keeping.

I was just your convoy.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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