Holding on to you.
Holding on to you is like holding a rope in my hands
while I feel the group of yarns braided into
a larger, stronger form
burn my hand with every second that I hold on to it.
Holding on to you.
Holding on to you is like having a camphor aflame
on my palm
while I feel it burning my epidermis and dermis.
The pain is terrifying, it makes me blank,
and nauseous,
yet I hold on.
Holding on to you.
Holding on to you is like grasping an ice cube in my hand,
the pain is numbing
and just when I’m about to drop it,
I tell myself,
“Just a lil longer until it melts and won’t hurt anymore.”
Holding on to you.
Holding on to you is like gripping on to the sharp end of a knife,
the wound is stabbing as the blade lacerates into my skin
cutting through the tendons, muscles, ligaments, nerves, blood vessels or bone.
Of course there is love in holding on
but there is also love in letting go.
But what if I don’t want to let go,
what if you are worth the pain?
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