November 19, 2011
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My fingertips cling to the craggy cliff
My feet scramble for footing in the air
Your open hand is waiting,
i reach out, longing to feel the texture of your
to grasp what I’ve always clung to.
Your hand slowly curls closed, into a Fist.

My fingers weaken.
You grind your heel into the ground
then, you into me.
it doesn't hurt.

You would never hurt Me.

i feel your hand at last.
the hand that caught my tears,
the hand that traced my scars.
for a quiet moment your hand caresses my cheek.
Your knuckles slam into my jaw
and i fall.

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