and you,
hit.
with open fists.
instead of,
closed palms.

and I thought that,
somewhere inside us,
we held love,

but it had gotten misused,
by you,
and love crumbled.

and hope,
for you to stop,
led you to close,

open palms,
into closed ones,
and mutate bruises,
on flesh.

and threw away all hope,
like the key,
to love,