her hands were made of glass,
as i hold onto them,
i could feel the blend of coldness and warmth,
the cold texture the hands were and how warm,
the blood drips from them, on the floor.
suddenly, i gave the lady a kiss upon her hands,
and realized, it wasn't her hands that drops of red came from, it was mine.
her hands were shattered, broken; and i'm holding onto it.
she cries and told me to let go,
but i never did.
the warmth of pain that wrapped me, it makes me calm.
it was like we're one.
and if holding her like this; with this pain.
i would never let go,
even it hurts.
