My hand outstretched, reaching for your closed heart
Reaching down, hoping you wonāt fall apart
In your palm stands a candle burning
The warmth and light youāve been yearning
But itās light is abating
And itās warmth has been excruciating.
Now the light is long gone
And I couldnāt go on,
The candle and I left you in the dark
With the remains of our spark.
Sometimes I feel like youāre holding on to things that hurt you instead of reaching for the ones that are trying to help. But time can and will run out. Eventually that helping hand will get tired of waiting for one that is too busy hurting itself.
