You're grasping my hand hard enough
For me to feel your quickening heartbeat.
And laughter escapes us,
Like water sneaking through crevasses in your fingers.
The next day I am broken,
Hot tears fall, so sick of you.
Unable to make up my mind,
I step forward before I can change my decision,
Before I am able to return.
Every day you put a smile on my face,
But every day you tear me apart.
Huh.
Thoughts on yesterday:
I am one in fifty-five, of seventeen hundred. My hands were shaking, my voice so obviously nervous. But when I told them my secret, approaching the menacing microphone cautiously with thirty-four hundred eyes looking at me, anticipating my words, they escaped me before I could second-guess myself. Instead of hearing apologies like I thought I would, I received thank-yous. It was refreshing.
I let go.
I am free.
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