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Jul 2014
Don’t tie your hair in a messy bun.
Don’t flick your ash like you don’t care.
Don’t hide ‘cause I see you flinch from those spoken words.
They sting worse than punches
and the bruises never fade.
And I see how you dismiss the hurt by playing it cool.
But darling,
there ain’t no one who feels nothing.
And you can disguise your feelings with all that black you wear.
Or paint on your mascara thick like you don’t give a ****.
But baby,
people are gonna talk no matter what;
how much you ate,
how thin you are,
that you think too much,
that you don’t care enough,
that your heels are too high,
or you’re pretending to be someone else
or just how you do,
or how you don’t.
And I know these things play off on your mind and keep you up at night.
But bottling it up isn’t going to ease the swell in your troubled heart.
It’ll just feed the sorrow and someday that old bubble is gonna have to burst.
So here, take my hands
because they’re yours to hold.
And don’t look surprised
because they’ve always been.
Maybe you never noticed them,
or maybe it wasn’t the right time.
Or maybe you were holding out for another pair of hands.
Now I know these hands are small.
They look fragile
but they’re all I’ve got to give.
Oh yes, there is my heart
but you claimed that long before I could auction it off to the highest bidder.
These fragile hands will
hold,
caress,
support,
and cure you.
If you’re weary
they’ll rock you to sleep.
They’d do more than just move mountains
and part oceans for you.
So take these hands and hold on tight.
But don’t doubt these hands
because they’re yours to hold.
e
Written by
e  Malaysia
(Malaysia)   
181
 
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