Death grip clasped faithfully together,
A portal from my lips to whoever it is that's listening
If anyone is listening,
Maybe help can come along and clasp itself around these hands,
still purple from holding on too tight,
the only relief in distant worlds,
maybe letting go is more about fingers than hearts,
mine seems to be stuck beating in a path to nowhere,
tracing the pale veined lines in my palm,
tinted nails clawing away tears,
leaving slashes of red on my cheek,
slightly browned knuckles seem to crack,
cracked eggs,
cracked skull,
don't think!
rivers of memories,
hands in a stream,
summer breeze,
catching fish with our bare palms,
can't let go,
pushed on a swing,
"don't push to hard or I might fall"
air rushing past me still waiting for the crash,
layers deep and peeling away,
palms skun raw
and I'm bleeding
crimson teardrops tracing the paths to nowhere